


Beastly

by LeChatRouge673



Series: Fables & Other Tales [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, fairytale AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2019-10-08 03:32:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17378768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeChatRouge673/pseuds/LeChatRouge673
Summary: There had been legends, of course, about the cursed castle in the dark woods. They had sprung up almost a decade ago, though no one could say for certain why or how. It was simply known that one did not wander too far into the deepest depths of the forest, nor did children stray too far from their homes after dusk had fallen. Rumors abounded of a hideous creature that had made its lair in the abandoned halls of the castle, and that it would make a tasty morsel of any human that strayed into its domain. Anora did not put much stock in tales, of course, but then, she had always had a feeling she knew more about this particular legend than most...





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Princess Felicita belongs to @shannaraisles.

Spring was slow to come to Ferelden this year. Though they were well into Drakonis, there was still a chill in the air, and frost still whispered across the world before dawn’s first light most mornings. Anora did not mind the cold so much, though. She was like her father in that way. In many ways, actually, which was perhaps unsurprising given that he had been the only one to raise her after her mother had died when Anora was still just a babe. She loved him dearly, which was also perhaps the main reason he was still at court even after the disastrous military campaign that had ended in the death of her husband and the disgrace of her father. His life at her side was not easy, and sometimes Anora wondered if it would have been kinder to simply send him into exile as Eamon had pressed her to do.

Speaking of Eamon…

“Think he’ll ever give up on his notion that we’ll suddenly fall madly in love and agree to get married?”

Anora laughed despite herself. Riding at her side was Alistair Theirin, bastard prince and her former brother-in-law. Several years younger than Anora, he was nevertheless a friend, and had no more inclination to drag Anora down the aisle than she had to once again fade into the role of a silent queen. It had been Eamon who had insisted that Alistair accompany the queen on her morning ride, the scheming statesmen still intent on putting a Theirin back on the throne. Even better if that Theirin was as biddable and inexperienced as Alistair.

“Doubtful.” She offered him a sympathetic smile. “Of course, if you would simply make an effort to court that Antivan princess of yours properly and remove yourself from consideration, it would rather neatly solve the problem.”

Alistair’s cheeks darkened, prompting another burst of laughter from Anora. “I have less than zero grounds to court Fabs,” Alistair pointed out. “I’m a bastard and a soldier and a bit of a nuisance really. She can, and will, do much better.”

Anora sighed quietly. _Eamon really has done a number on him_. “You are the second son of a king, a knight in service to the Fereldan crown, and while you are certainly awkward on occasion, I would not call you a nuisance. Well, not most days, anyways,” she teased. “Besides, you would have my wholehearted endorsement of the match, which is no small matter, if I may be so bold.”

“You think so?” Alistair asked, a note of hope rising in his inquiry. “Maybe when we get back, I’ll…” his voice faded away as he stared into the distance. Anora frowned slightly, about to snap him back to attention, when she too spied what had caught his interest.

_No. It can’t be…_

“Maker’s breath,” she whispered, slowing Thorn to a slow trot and then a full stop, her eyes almost refusing to acknowledge what they were seeing.

There had been legends, of course, about the cursed castle in the dark woods. They had sprung up almost a decade ago, though no one could say for certain why or how. It was simply known that one did not wander too far into the deepest depths of the forest, nor did children stray too far from their homes after dusk had fallen. Rumors abounded of a hideous creature that had made its lair in the abandoned halls of the castle, and that it would make a tasty morsel of any human that strayed into its domain. Anora did not put much stock in tales, of course, but then, she had always had a feeling she knew more about this particular legend than most.

“Should we…?” Alistair looked at her expectantly, expecting her to take the lead as she always did.

Anora bit her lower lip slightly. The responsible part of her knew they should turn back, return to the castle, and never speak of what they had seen ever again. On the other hand…

_What if it is?_

“I suppose we could ride a bit closer. A _tiny_ bit,” she conceded, and Alistair grinned.

“Always knew you had a sense of adventure under all that propriety and courtly manners.”

“Of course I do,” Anora retorted. “I simply also have a strong sense of responsibility and self-preservation.” Still, she urged Thorn into a canter as they rode further down the path. It had been years since she had done anything like this; since she had seized a small bit of freedom and autonomy and done something simply because she felt like it. It was exhilarating.

Somehow, the distance to the castle was not nearly as far as it had seemed, or perhaps in her excitement Anora had simply allowed Thorn freer rein than she had intended. Either way, before she even realized it, they found themselves at the elaborate wrought iron gates of the castle. At their approach, the gates swung open on silent hinges, wordlessly inviting them into a sprawling courtyard dotted by frozen fountains and what must have once been verdant arrangements of flowers and trees and vines. Though the world outside these walls was slowly slipping into spring, the castle and its grounds seemed to be trapped in an unrelenting winter.

Alistair dismounted and made as though he intended to enter the courtyard, but Anora held up a hand and he paused. “What?” He asked, tilting his head slightly. “You’re not even the least bit curious about what’s in there?”

“Of course I am,” Anora replied carefully, “But do _you_ not find it the least bit odd that we’re practically being invited in to a mysterious castle that no one has set foot in for the last nine years? It could be a trap.” _Knowing her, it is almost definitely a trap_.

“What, you think the terrible ‘beast’ is going to come out and snatch us up?” Alistair scoffed with a grin. “The place looks abandoned. Besides, it’s not like we’re going to go traipsing through the place. I just want to take a look around the grounds.”

Anora stared up at the castle, a feeling of unease growing in the pit of her stomach. “Alistair, I don’t like it. I do not think this place is abandoned, and I do not think we are alone.”

Alistair sighed. “C’mon, Anora. One quick look around, and then we’ll leave. Promise.”

She shook her head, but dismounted and followed him. The grounds had been beautiful, once. Should the sun’s warmth ever find them, they could be again. They wandered about in silence, both caught in the web of dangerous curiosity, until suddenly Anora spied something that made her reach out and grasp Alistair’s arm so hard he swore. When she pointed out what had caught her attention, the color drained from his face. There, in a well-stocked stable, stood a beautiful golden mare grazing placidly on dried grass that had been placed in her trough.

_Aurora_.

“Someone has been caring for that animal,” Anora spoke slowly and in a low, even tone. “And has been for some time.” She pulled on his arm, her stride resolute as she led him back towards the gates. _I will return later. Alone_. “We need to leave. Now.”

To her surprise, Alistair nodded, following her obediently. “I agree. We should-” Suddenly, he stopped, nearly dragging Anora back in the process. “Wait. Look at that.”

She turned in the direction he indicated, and even she had to admit a small measure of surprise. There, growing amidst the muted whites of frost and ice and snow, was a single, brilliant red rose. “Leave it, Alistair,” she warned. “Whatever is happening here, it is not natural, and I can promise that rose is not either.”

“It’s just a flower,” he replied, his expression suddenly softening, and Anora knew he was thinking of Princess Felicita.

“Alistair, it is not worth it,” she hissed, trying to pull him in the other direction. “If you want, I will have the royal gardener give you as many roses as you want, but for the love of the Maker do not touch that damn flower.”

It was no use. Alistair seemed drawn to the blossom, his gaze transfixed on its delicate petals. “But this one is perfect, Anora. Flawless. Just like her.”

Anora rolled her eyes, but said nothing more, instead casting her attention about for whoever else may be with them. Alistair drew a small blade from his belt, carefully cutting the rose at its stem. Then, he turned back to Anora with a cheerful grin. “See? No harm done. Now, let’s just head back to Denerim and…” Suddenly, his smile fell and his eyes grew wide.

“Oh, you’ll not be going _anywhere_.”

The voice, such as it was, came from behind Anora, who spun around to face their captor. When her eyes fell upon the creature, she resisted the urge to shudder. Whatever it was, it had been human once, that much was clear: the face was still partially that of a young woman, but it was twisted and distorted such that it equally resembled that of a misshapen cat. Feline ears peeked out of auburn hair that had been severely braided back and pinned into a knot, and vicious looking fangs flashed as the creature sauntered closer, seemingly unconcerned by the blade still in Alistair’s grasp. Long, wicked claws curved from beneath the sleeves of a blouse that was too large for the angular body, and its legs were bent at degrees completely at odds with those of a normal person. A long, auburn tail swished delicately over the ground, itself an indication of predatory intent.

_Oh dear._

Anora took a deep breath, then spoke. “We mean you no harm, mistress. We found your home by accident and allowed our curiosity to override our common sense.” She shot a brief glare at Alistair.

“Your friend is a thief,” the creature snarled. “By what right does he trespass upon my lands and steal that which is my own?”

“It was just a damn flower,” Alistair protested, but Anora silenced him with a swift backwards kick to his shin.

“My lady, I offer a compromise,” Anora continued, an idea sparking in her mind. She knew that voice, even beneath the harsh growls and angry hisses. It had been so long… so _very_ long… “Allow my companion to leave. Allow him the rose. I will stay in your custody. I think you would find me a far more valuable prisoner, would you not?”

The creature glared at her, but seemed to be considering her words. “What makes you think I know you from manners? And why should Alistair be allowed to run amok through my home with no consequences for his foolishness?”

Anora’s lips curved up in a small smile. “You have just answered your own question, my lady,” she replied. “You clearly recognize my friend, and therefore, you recognize me. As for Alistair, well,” she shrugged, “I do not deny he is foolhardy and impulsive and too often acts before he thinks. All the more reason I should think you would prefer _my_ company over his, yes?”

Another pause as golden cat eyes studied them both. Finally, the creature stepped forward and offered Anora a clawed hand. Anora accepted it, almost surprised at how fragile it seemed in her own grasp.

“We have an accord,” the creature nodded, then turned towards Alistair. “As for you? Leave this place. I have granted you your life by the grace of your queen, but my patience is not infinite. Now, go. I have no use for you.”

Alistair looked back at Anora, paralyzed by indecision, but she merely gave him a small nod and a wave of her hand. “Go on, Alistair. It will be fine.”

He still did not seem to believe her, but the impatient clicking of the creature’s claws on the stone seemed to quicken his departure. He mounted his horse and, with a final backwards glance, rode off back in the direction of the safety of the city. Anora and the creature watched him go and, as he finally faded from view, the latter seemed to relax a bit. She nodded in the direction of Thorn. “Best go fetch her before the wolves come. I’m honestly a bit surprised they haven’t yet; they’re usually far more aggressive this close to the walls. You may stable her with Aurora.”

Anora did as she was bidden, then fell into step besides the creature as they walked back towards the castle. As they entered the entry hall, Anora finally allowed herself a small shiver; her emotions had been running so high she had not noticed the cold, but now that things were calming down she was suddenly keenly aware of the chill in the air. The creature glanced towards her and sighed, tossing her head in the direction of a sitting room. When they entered, a fire sprang to life in the hearth. Anora took a seat close to it, then offered her host a smile.

“Might I trouble you for a cup of tea?”

The creature tilted her head in confusion, seemingly still perplexed by Anora’s easy acceptance of what she clearly considered a terrible fate. Nevertheless, she shrugged and, with a slight gesture, summoned what appeared to be an enchanted tea service. The teapot neatly poured a cup of tea before the cream and sugar dishes moved as though looking at Anora expectantly. “Please,” she nodded, trying to mask her surprise, “and just one lump, if you could. Thank you.” She accepted the cup as the tea set began pouring another for her host, who had settled into the chair opposite her. The creature thanked the teapot, which she called “Josie,” for some reason, and Anora waited until they had each taken a long sip from their drinks before she set her cup aside and faced her directly.

“You have become a bit of a legend back in the city,” Anora informed her. “A tale used to keep people out of the darkest woods, and to frighten little children at night.” This seemed to amuse the creature, and so Anora continued. “It seems the tales have been a bit embellished, however. They describe a horrific beast that devours children and travelers alike, and who was cursed for some unspeakable act by a benevolent sorceress who bore witness to her crimes.”

The creature rolled her eyes. “I have not eaten anyone, least not so far as I know. The larder is enchanted like the rest of this Maker-forsaken place, so we have never suffered for foodstuffs. As for the curse…” her gaze fell away. “I admit, I probably deserved to suffer. Whether the punishment was suitable to the crime, I do not know. But the witch who cast the spell was no more benevolent than I am blameless. She saw fit not only to curse me, but all those who had the misfortune to share my home.”

“Either way,” Anora continued, her voice kind, “I expected to find something far more terrifying, if I were to find anything at all. You are certainly not what I expected. Honestly,” she hesitated, wondering how much the creature knew of the outside world, “We thought you had died.”

The creature looked up at her sharply. “You… you know who I was?”

Anora stood and knelt down beside her old friend. “Oh Thea, I would have known you anywhere,” she replied softly. “I know _exactly_ who you are. Who you will always be.”

A strangled noise came from Thea’s throat, and Anora felt her body trembling beneath the hand she placed on her shoulder. “You should not have come here, Anora,” she whispered hoarsely. “There is strong magic here; stronger than any I have ever known. We will have to make up a story so that you can escape. You can tell them you tricked me, or that you ran away under the cover of night…”

Anora gave her an affectionate squeeze. “A curse, yes?” Thea nodded miserably, and Anora continued. “A particularly nasty one, by the looks of it. And let me guess: it can only be broken by true, unconditional love?” Thea did not reply, instead simply staring into the fire.

Anora smiled.

“Well, while I am perfectly content to stay her so long as you see fit, I fear my visit will not be so long as I should like. It sounds as though we have a great deal to catch up on.” She stood and returned to her chair by the fire, settling in and taking another sip of her tea as Thea looked at her in open bemusement. Anora gave a small laugh.

“However, I also strongly suspect that the person they send after me will be _far_ better suited to your purposes than I.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

_Damn it. What now?_

Some sort of commotion was rising in the hall outside his study, but Loghain had very little interest in investigating. Whatever it was, and it was almost certainly something idiotic, was even more certainly not something he wanted to get involved in but would inevitably have to deal with. Despite everything that had happened, when Anora was away he was somehow still the de facto authority at the palace. It would have frustrated him more if he did not have the knowledge that his continued presence and position irritated Eamon Guerrin to no end.

It was the little things.

The country still remained largely divided in their opinion of Loghain Mac Tir. Half of them held the same opinion as his daughter: that ultimately, the decision to leave her husband to die on the battlefield was not an act of treason, but one of desperation and a final effort to save as much of their forces as they could. He had, and they had lived on to fight another day, but that did not stop the other half of the population from viewing him as a traitor and a regicide who had no business being anywhere near the capital, let alone remaining as an advisor to his daughter.

Personally, he almost agreed with the latter. He’d become bored with palace life, now that there was peace on the borders and his talent as a military advisor and a general were no longer needed. Anora did her best to make him feel useful, of course, but she had to strike a balance so that she did not appear to be giving him undue influence. Her position was made all the more tedious by Eamon constantly at her back pressing for a marriage alliance with his nephew, Alistair, and his incessant attempts to lobby for more power of his own. Loghain had begun counting down the days until the other man returned to his own lands in Redcliffe.

More aggravating than the near constant stream of suitors for Anora’s hand were the subtle, and often not so subtle, inquiries as to when he would re-marry. None of the requests were ones he saw fit to answer. He had not been a very good husband the first time around, and he doubted he would ever find a woman that would change his mind such that he would be willing to make a second attempt. Besides that, any marriage he made would have to be one that would not threaten Anora or her throne. Truly, the entire idea was more trouble than it was worth.

The clamor outside seemed to be growing louder rather than receding, and Loghain pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh, bracing himself for whatever was about to come through his door. He was only mildly surprised when Alistair Theirin tumbled into the room, followed in short order by Eamon, who at least seemed to know no more than Loghain did.

“It… it took Anora,” Alistair gasped, trying to catch his breath. “We were riding in the forest to the south, and we saw the caste, the enchanted castle from the tales!”

Loghain breathed an even heavier sigh. “Alistair, slow down, damn it. What the void do you mean, you found the enchanted castle?”

Alistair drew a long breath and braced his hands on the front of Loghain’s desk. “Anora was to go out riding this morning. Eamon suggested I accompany her, rather than her usual bodyguard.” He ignored the glare Loghain shot in the other man’s direction and continued. “Everything was fine, but then we saw towers in the distance. I had never seen them before, so we rode in that direction. I am not sure how it happened, but despite how distant the castle had seemed, we reached it in hardly any time at all. Anora tried to talk me out of it, but we entered the courtyard, and the entire place seemed to be under a spell. Winter still holds there, despite spring coming to the rest of the world. We found a horse in the stable, well cared for, and we knew someone else was there. I finally realized that Anora was right, and we had to leave.”

He paused, his eyes suddenly dropping away. “It was my fault, Loghain. It was all my fault. I saw a single red rose on the vine, and I had to pick it. I don’t know what came over me, but the next thing we knew we were cornered by some sort of… creature. I don’t know what it was, but Anora did not seem afraid. In fact, she… she almost seemed to recognize it. She struck a bargain with it, agreeing to stay in exchange for letting me go. The monster seemed to be content with this, and so I was allowed to leave. I rode back as hard as I could, but the distance seemed somehow greater on the way back.”

“Someone has to go after her,” Alistair finished, running hand through his sandy hair and leaving a mess in his wake. “Void, maybe the whole damn army needs to, I don’t know. I don’t think that whatever that thing is means to harm her, but I also don’t think it’s going to give her up willingly.”

Loghain stood up, knocking his chair over in his anger. “You mean to say you turned tail and ran like a coward and _left my daughter_ , your _queen_ , in the hands of a monster?”

“She ordered me to, Loghain,” Alistair replied quietly. “What would you have done?”

Loghain glared at him for a long moment, then gave a huff of frustration. “Damn it,” Loghain growled, then peered at Alistair. “And how do I know any of this is true? How do I know this is not some plot you and Eamon have cooked up in an attempt to seize the throne? For all I know, Anora is dead in a ditch somewhere by your hand, and this is a convenient way to do away with me as well.”

Eamon immediately began to protest, but Alistair simply stepped forward and drew a blade. Rather than move to attack, however, he rapidly drew the blade over his own palm, allowing blood to drip onto the stone tiles. “Loghain Mac Tir, I hereby swear on my life blood that I have not harmed your daughter, nor do I have any designs on her throne. Furthermore, I swear to you that I shall make no attempt to seize control in your absence, and I will personally stand in the way of anyone who should try to do so.” He named no names, but his eyes flicked ever so briefly towards his uncle.

Loghain stared at him for a moment. Then, without a second glance at Eamon, he strode out of his study. “Come with me,” he ordered Alistair, “And tell me everything you know. Without the additional theatrics, if you can manage it.”

“There’s not much more to tell,” Alistair replied wearily, wrapping the bit of cloth Loghain shoved in his direction around his bleeding hand. “As I said, whatever that monster is, I don’t think it intends to hurt Anora, but there is a deep magic in that place. Maybe the spells on it are weakening, and that is why we were able to find it, or maybe we just had the worst luck in history, I don’t know, but I damn well would have remembered a great bloody castle in the middle of the wilderness if I had ever seen it before. And I very much doubt its occupant wanted to be found.”

“And you have no idea what it is?” Loghain pressed as they reached the stables and he began saddling Alexander, the great black horse he had ridden into battle more times than he could count. “A werewolf, perhaps? Some sort of demon?” Alexander pawed at the ground, fueled by Loghain’s own impatience.

Alistair hesitated for a moment. “If I had to hazard a guess, I would say closer to the former than the latter. It was no demon, but…” He threw up his hands in frustration. “It was vaguely human? A were _cat_ would be more accurate, but not as, I dunno, hairy?”

Loghain raised a single eyebrow in skepticism, but asked no further questions. Instead, he swung up into the saddle and looked down at Alistair. “You have sworn a blood oath, boy. You do not want to see what will happen should you attempt to break it.”

“I know,” Alistair answered, his tone equally solemn. “Ride fast, Loghain.”

With that, Loghain gave a command and Alexander thundered out of the stables, his hooves striking the ground like lightning and raising a chorus like thunder. Past the open fields and farms, into the dark embrace of the forest he rode. He refused to entertain the idea that perhaps he would be too late; that Anora was beyond rescue. He had failed her once. He would not do so again.

* * *

Alistair’s directions had been frustratingly imprecise, yet Alexander seemed to be racing as much by instinct as by any direction Loghain gave. After a while they slowed, giving the horse a much needed chance to catch its breath. As they made their way deeper into the woods, Loghain could practically feel the trees closing in around him, and his hand went instinctively to the hilt of his sword. Despite the tale Alistair had woven, Loghain was still surprised to find himself at the wrought iron gates the young man had described, and in much less time than he should have.

He dismounted and led Alexander through the gates, which had swung open at their approach. Somehow, the horse seemed more at ease here than he had on the forest path, and ambled over easily to join two other horses at a trough that had been filled with hay. He easily recognized Anora’s own horse, Thorn, but not the other golden mare. Keeping to cover as best he could, Loghain approached the front entry of the castle, only slightly perturbed when the great doors opened on silent hinges just as easily as the gates had. Drawing his sword, he crept into the towering entry hall, his ears picking up the faint sounds of conversation from one of the rooms nearby.

“Anora!” He called out, his impatience winning out over caution.

“In here, father,” she called back, drawing him towards a sitting room where a cheerful fire was crackling in the hearth. Anora herself was sitting in a plush armchair, sipping a glass of wine and looking perfectly comfortable. There was another figure in the room as well; one that slipped deeper into the shadows as he approached. Anora rolled her eyes and gave a short sigh of exasperation.

“Now, none of that. Come back out into the light, where you belong.” The creature growled something that Loghain could not quite decipher, but Anora glanced back at him and then gave a small nod of understanding. “Ah, right. Father, please put away the sword. It is utterly unnecessary and it is not helping things in the slightest right at the moment.”

Loghain’s brow furrowed in mild irritation, but he did as his daughter asked. She gave another nod of satisfaction, then turned back to the shadows. “Come now,” she coaxed, “He is not going to harm you. Not without going through me first.”

  
His daughter’s words seemed to have placated the creature, who tentatively stepped forward into the light. For all its reticence, it held its twisted head high, and the gleam in the golden cat eyes was one of defiance rather than fear or madness. Somehow, Loghain felt as if he had seen it somewhere before, and yet he also knew he would have remembered encountering a beast of this like.

“Much better,” Anora spoke up brightly. Now, father, the lady of the house and I have reached an agreement. She will permit me to go free and return to Denerim unharmed, but there is a cost: you must remain in my place.”

Loghain turned his stare from the creature to his daughter. “I _what_?”

“You must remain here, in this place,” Anora repeated, her voice softer. “You would pay for my freedom with your own, at least,” she hesitated, looking back towards her captor, who somehow seemed equally confused by this turn of events, “At least for the time being,” she finished. “I trust you understand that I would not ask this of you if I did not truly believe it to be for the best.”

The creature spoke up as if to protest. “Anora, I do not recall-”

“Agreed,” Loghain interrupted harshly before the creature could speak any further. “My life for my daughter’s.”

“It will not be so dramatic as all that,” the creature remarked drily. “Anora, are you _certain_ this is for the best?”

Loghain glanced at his daughter, who seemed to be far more in control of the current negotiations than her abductor. “I most certainly am. As I said before, I believe my father will be far better suited here than I would be.” Anora patted the creature on the hand before standing and approaching him, a quiet smile on her lips. “I do appreciate you riding to my rescue, father. All I can ask is that you trust me.”

“I would do anything to keep you safe, Anora,” he replied, wrapping her in a tight embrace. “I love you.”

“I love you, father,” she stepped back and leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek, whispering in his ear as she did so. “Be kind, father. She has suffered more than most.”

He frowned, but nodded reluctantly as his daughter stepped back towards the creature and leaned down slightly to whisper something in its ear as well. Whatever Anora said, it seemed surprised, and for a brief moment the golden glow in its eyes seemed to soften slightly. Anora wrapped its clawed hand briefly in her own with a gentle smile, then fetched her cloak. Both man and beast followed her to the front hall.

“I have made the offering to the wolves, Anora,” she spoke. “They should not trouble you, but do not linger. They will not be kept at bay for long.”

“Thank you,” Anora acknowledged, then turned to Loghain. “Until we meet again, father.”

“Safe journeys, Anora,” he replied, then watched helplessly as she slipped outside and the doors closed behind her, leaving him alone with the beast. Neither spoke for a time, and at last she turned and returned to the sitting room. Loghain, uncertain what else to do, followed. He watched as she settled into an armchair, then gestured awkwardly for him to join her.

“May I offer you anything?” She asked, her tone hesitant. “I can provide most anything you want. The silver lining to an enchanted larder, I suppose.”

“Right now, I think I just need a drink,” he replied, more brusquely than he intended, but she did not seem too bothered by it. Instead she just nodded and, with a subtle hand gesture, a pair of glasses and a bottle of whiskey appeared and poured themselves, one settling in her hand and the other at his side. He must have been staring, because she gave a harsh bark of laughter.

“You get used to it,” she shrugged, downing the glass in a single swallow and allowing another one to be poured.

“Who _are_ you,” Loghain finally asked.

She turned away, and for the first time Loghain could have sworn he saw shame or perhaps embarrassment in her eyes. “The rare person who has seen me in my current state usually refer to me simply as ‘the Beast.’ I suppose that will suffice well enough.”

Despite himself, Loghain felt a swell of pity for his host. “You were not always this way?” He asked softly.

“No,” she whispered, “But that is a story for another time. Perhaps after you have eaten a proper meal, and rested.” She stood, the movement made slightly awkward by the odd, cat-like bent of her legs. “Loghain Mac Tir, you are a guest in my home, albeit an unwilling one. You may have free run of the castle and the grounds, save for the west wing. Those are my private rooms, and I am a deeply private person, so I suggest you leave them be. Also, do not wander beyond the walls of the castle grounds. There is a powerful magic that keeps me here, but it also keeps the wild thing out. The wolves in this area are particularly fierce, and my offerings can only do so much to feed their appetites. In the meantime, I am afraid I must ask you to surrender your blade, at least for the time being. Sten will keep it safe.”

A large suit of armor stepped forward and held out its hands without a word. Loghain nodded in understanding, handing over his sword but suddenly feeling very, very dazed. From the hall, a great raven swooped in and perched on the creature’s shoulder and, if he didn’t know any better, Loghain would have sworn it spoke something into her ear. She frowned a bit before turning towards the raven and saying, “Oh, fine. Loghain, Cataline will show you to your rooms. If you need for anything, simply say so. Someone will see to it.”

With that she left, the bird still perched on her shoulder and some sort of bickering continuing between them. Loghain stood still for a moment, at a loss as to what to do or where to go. Then, a beautiful cream and ginger tabby cat slipped into the room, its gentle violet eyes looking up at him expectantly.

“Ah, I understand now,” the cat nodded and Loghain jumped back. The cat’s mouth tilted into what could only be a smile before it continued. “I apologize; I had thought she might have warned you. My name is Cataline. And no, before you ask, I was not always a cat.”

“I see,” Loghain managed. It was all he could think to say, but Cataline seemed to understand.

“It is a lot to take in,” she acknowledged, “But we will help you as we can. A great number of objects in the castle are enchanted, but not all of them. In time you will learn to tell the difference. Come along,” she gave a toss of her head, and Loghain followed. They ascended a beautiful grand staircase, then another flight, then down a long corridor until they reached the final door on the left side. He opened the door at her prompting and stepped inside.

It was a beautiful room as far as prisons went. Wide, picture windows looked out over the sprawling forest and as far as the crashing sea. Cataline saw where his attention had been drawn and hopped up onto the window seat. “It is a beautiful view, isn’t it? All the windows on this side of the castle face the sea, though of course only those on the upper stories can see above the trees to the waters. She wanted you to have the best room.”

“Yes, well, express my appreciation,” Loghain remarked with a slight edge of sarcasm.

Cataline simply gave a twitch of her tail. “Oh you two will get along beautifully,” she chuckled. “Shall I have anything sent up for your supper? You are welcome to join us in the dining room, of course, but I thought perhaps it might be more manageable to eat in your room for the evening.”

Loghain gave a brief nod of appreciation. “Whatever you are having will be fine, I’m sure. Thank you, Cataline.” She gave a brief purr in response, then hopped delicately down and padded towards the door. As she walked away, a thought tugged at the corner of his mind.

“Cataline?”

The cat turned and looked at him inquisitively. “Yes?”

He paused, then asked, “Have we met before?”

Cataline stared at him for a long moment, a flurry of emotions vying for priority in her violet eyes. She did not answer him, however. Instead, she simply silently left the room, leaving Loghain alone with his thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

“I am losing control of my own damn household,” Thea grumbled, stalking her way through the halls of her home. Her lair. Her prison. “I haven’t the slightest idea what put this fool notion in Anora’s head, but had I known…”

“You’re a poor liar, Teddy Girl,” Nathaniel retorted, adjusting his wings slightly to balance against her agitated pace. “You’ve been half in love with that man since the first day you met him all those years ago. _More_ than half, if we’re being honest.”

“I was young and stupid,” Thea shot back, pausing to glance in a mirror with the intent of making sure Nathaniel could see her glare. Instead, the deformed face that met her just made her heart sink. _How could he ever love me. Void, I can’t even stand to look at myself_. Her best friend seemed to read her thoughts.

“You were young, yes, but you both have a few more years on you now. I don’t think you would be so beside yourself at the moment if you did not still feel something for him. And anyone who cannot see beyond your outward appearance would not be worthy of you anyways.”

Thea sighed, resisting the urge to let her shoulders slump. “Would not be able to break this curse, you mean.”

“That is not even close to what I meant.”

“It amounts to the same thing, does it not?” She shook her head irritably. “Nate, no one in their right mind would ever see me as anything other than what I am on the surface: a monster. Perhaps they are right not to.”

Nathaniel gave her a gentle but insistent peck against her cheek. “Don’t be ridiculous, Thea. We’ve been over this before. I remember the person you were before, and I think you do too. Temper or no, you had a good heart, and I think time has at least done something to improve the former. And I would be willing to bet that if you give him a chance, Loghain will see it too.”

Thea rested her cheek gently against Nathaniel’s back. “I’m so sorry, Nate,” she whispered. Not for the first time; not for the thousandth. It would never be enough.

“It was not your fault, Thea,” he replied. “You had no way of knowing we would all fall under the curse.”

“You and Cataline have lost almost ten years, and if this does not work, you stand to lose everything.” Thea could hear the familiar desperation in her voice, but no longer tried to hide it. They were all running out of time.

“It will be what it will be, Thea,” Nathaniel managed to shrug his wings as she settled into an armchair in front of the fireplace in her room. “At least we have been together. All of us.”

“I know,” Thea sighed. “I am just afraid to hope that this could truly be the answer.”

Nathaniel hopped down from her shoulder and fluttered up to the mantle where he could face her properly. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “He hasn’t tried to run away or kill you, which is in his favor, and you already care for him, much as you’d like to deny it, so that is already leaps and bounds ahead of anywhere else we’ve been in the past nine years.”

Thea let her head fall back against the chair. “Do you even remember what I used to look like, Nate? I am not certain I do anymore.”

“Of course I do, Teddy Girl. I remember the storm in your eyes, and the way your hair would fly behind your back like autumn leaves when you rode Aurora out to the farthest cliffs, laughing the entire way. I remember the way your fingers would fly over piano keys, and how your voice would soar like the stars. But more than that, I remember your kindness. The way you would rescue animals and nurse them back to health, or send anonymous donations to families that had fallen on hard times after an illness or accident.” Nathaniel tilted his head and met her eyes. “You were not a bad person, Thea. You just made some really shitty decisions.”

Despite herself, Thea laughed wryly. “My infamous temper,” she nodded, accepted a cup of tea from the enchanted tea set at her side, then stared thoughtfully into the fire. “He will need time to adjust,” she mused quietly. “We have lived with this for a long time. He has not, and the world he comes from is probably a great deal more… ordinary.”

“Very likely,” Nathaniel agreed. “Hopefully he will come around sooner rather than later.”

“Oh, I think he will.” Cataline slipped into the room, tail twitching ever so slightly. Nathaniel glided down from his perch until he was on the ground with his wife, nuzzling his head against hers, prompting a purr from the tabby before she continued. “I like him. He is still utterly sarcastic, well spoken, intelligent, stubborn, and loyal, just as he was ten years ago. Much like someone _else_ we know,” she said pointedly, leaping up to the arm of Thea’s chair and settling in, accepting a scritch under her chin.

“How is he?” Thea asked hesitantly.

Cataline sighed. “In shock, for the moment, but recovering quickly. He recognized my voice, I think. He asked if we had ever met before.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I didn’t,” Cataline replied flatly. “You, my darling cousin, need to clue him in to who _you_ are first. The truth needs to come from you, and revealing my identity would have been a near dead giveaway to who you are.”

“I was going to get to it,” Thea grumbled. “He’s barely been here an hour. I thought I might let him get a good night’s sleep, see if it was any easier to handle in the morning.”

“Like the void,” Cataline snorted. “You were going to keep putting it off until he eventually puzzled it out himself, which you know he would have. He is probably as smart as you are, or near enough. But I still maintain that the truth would be easier to bear coming from you directly. Good relationships are built on honesty.”

Thea bit her lower lip slightly, tapping her long claws on the edge of her chair while her other hand gently stroked Cataline’s back. “You’re right,” she finally conceded. “Regardless of anything else, I ought to tell him. Tomorrow, I promise. Right now, I think I need to go to bed. It has been… a very, very long day.”

She stood up from her chair and went to her vanity, performing the same evening ablutions she had performed a million times, and yet something felt different. It was not until she had crawled into bed, Cataline curled up on the pillow beside her and Nathaniel perched on the headboard, that she realized what that feeling was.

It was hope.

 

* * *

 

 

When she woke the next morning, Thea took a little longer in front of the mirror. She let the brush and comb take a little more care when constructing her braids, and when Vivienne offered to dress her in something a bit more fashionable, just as she had every morning for the past nine years, Thea finally allowed the transformed wardrobe to dress her properly. She had to admit, the effect was not displeasing: trousers that fit her awkward legs better than anything she had clumsily tailored herself, and a pale green blouse that brought out the color of her hair. She was still a monster; no amount of good dressing could change that, but she felt a bit better about it at least.

She slowly descended the stairs and made her way to the kitchen, where she was greeted by several familiar voices.

“Damn. Looking good, boss!”

Thea laughed in spite of herself. “Thanks, Bull,” she smiled. Her hulking qunari friend had been transformed into an impressive butcher knife when the curse had descended. “Has he been down yet this morning?”

“He has indeed,” Leliana informed her. The former bard had taken the shape of a lute, but often found herself in the kitchens. It was, after all, the best place to pick up castle news and gossip. At least, when there was any. “He ate early, and went out to the courtyard to practice with one of the old training swords that were lying around.”

“I may have tipped ‘im off,” Bull admitted. “That guy was gonna go crazy without something to do.”

“I appreciate it,” Thea reassured them. “Is he still out there?”

“No,” Lace chimed in. Thea’s former chief surveyor was now living life as a compass. “I think he’s in the front parlor.”

Thea sighed. _Damn it. Means he’s found the family portrait_. “Thank you, everyone,” she managed a tight smile before turning to leave.

“Thea?”

She turned back in time to catch a biscuit launched at her by Sera, the enchanted oven. “Eat something, yeah?”

Thea took a bite out of the biscuit obediently. “Yes, mother,” she teased, then made her way out of the kitchens. She wandered the familiar halls, taking more time than was strictly necessary before finding herself in front of the doors to the main parlor. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the doors open and entered, resisting the urge to sneak in and instead making enough noise that Loghain would know she was there. Sure enough, he was standing in front of the oversized family portrait that hung in a place of prominence over the fireplace.

The portrait should have been ordinary enough: two parents and two daughters. Three of them had at least been making an attempt at an appearance of happiness; one was not in the slightest. Their clothes were of fine make, the sign of prosperity and affluence and easy nobility.

And three of the four faces had been slashed beyond recognition.

“Well. You do have quite the temper, don’t you?”

Thea stepped forward so that she and Loghain Mac Tir were standing side by side. She studied the portrait as well, trying to remember the exact way she had felt when she had destroyed it; the exact rage that had been coursing through her veins. For the first time, however, she could no longer tap into it. Instead, she just shrugged.

“Perhaps I’m just not an art lover?”

Loghain snorted in skepticism. “Like the void. I’ve seen the other pieces in this castle. You have exceptional taste, and every single other picture I’ve come across is in perfect condition. Museum quality, even. All of them, that is, except this one.” He examined the portrait, winter blue eyes taking in every marred detail. “I have to wonder, though, whose face was spared.”

“Not mine, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Thea spat with more venom than she intended.

“Somehow I didn’t think so,” Loghain agreed, his tone still conversational. Surprising, given that his world had just been turned upside down. “So who is it, then?”

Thea took a deep breath. _Now or never, I suppose_. “My sister, Margot. The only one who ever gave a damn about my existence, at least in my immediate family. She did more to raise me than my parents ever did. Have you wondered how I ended up out here in the middle of the Ferelden hinterlands? My parents’ doing. They decided I was better off far away and out of the way. They dropped me here on my eighteenth birthday and never looked back.”

“Margot… Margot Trevelyan?” Loghain looked at her, and Thea just nodded. “I see. Then that would make you Theadosia. The lost Trevelyan daughter.”

Thea gave a harsh bark of laughter. “ _Lost_? Fucking ‘lost’? Is that the story they told?”

Loghain shrugged. “That is the only story we were ever given. Anora was devastated when you disappeared, you know. She sent out countless search parties.”

“She should not have wasted her time,” Thea sighed. “Magic concealed this castle from all but those who ventured closest. Honestly, I am not certain how she and her inept companion were able to find it this time.”

He gave a snort of laughter. “Yes, ‘inept’ is about the right word, there. But I do not know how they found your domain. I merely followed the boy’s directions, though I will admit Alexander seemed to know the way even without my help.”

“Alexander… your horse?” Thea gave a small smile, and Loghain returned the gesture.

“Yes,” he nodded. “And Cataline… she is Cataline Howe, isn’t she? I knew I recognized that voice.”

Thea turned away. “Yes,” she whispered. “Cataline and Nathaniel were both here when the curse took hold, as were many of my other friends. Now they are all suffering for my arrogance.”

She could tell Loghain wanted to ask more, but he refrained. Instead, he turned back to the ruined portrait. “Your parents died three years after you disappeared,” he informed her. “The red fever took them both, though from what I understand it was a small loss. Margot rules Ostwick now, and has never lifted the reward for news of you. She still searches, even after all these years.”

“I know,” Thea murmured, and to her annoyance she could feel tears at the corners of her eyes. She hastily wiped them away, praying Loghain had not seen. She remembered checking in on both Margot and Anora, and knowing in her heart that all their efforts to find her, to rescue her from her horrific fate, were in vain. “My parents never gave a single damn about what happened to me. In fact, I think they were relieved when they realized I had disappeared. I suspect they knew I’d been cursed, and they never once tried to find me, or to discover what had happened. It was a convenient way to do away with an unwanted daughter, and to erase any trace of a black sheep in their precious Trevelyan bloodline.”

Loghain turned his gaze towards her, and Thea knew he would see the rage and fire burning in her eyes. “We met once, years ago, didn’t we?”

“Yes. We met. There is no particular reason you should remember me, but I remember you.”

“Were you always so snappish and cynical?”

Thea felt her heart drop. She shut her eyes, willing away the tears. Finally, she opened them and turned to face Loghain, her arms stretched out and a sardonic grin on her face, fangs on full display.

“How do you think I ended up like this?”

And with that, she turned on her heel and stalked off, slamming the door behind her.

_This is never going to work._


	4. Chapter 4

_Theadosia Livia Trevelyan._

Loghain stared after her as she stormed off, tail twitching angrily over the floor and ears swiveling in irritation. It might have been funny had it not been so tragic.

‘Lost,’ they had said. Lost in the woods during a tragic accident. No body had ever been found; really, no trace of Theadosia whatsoever. Loghain racked his memories, trying to remember the young woman the way she had once been. Theadosia and Anora had been close, but he admitted he had never paid her much mind. There was always something else going on, something else demanding his time and attention, and at that point he had simply been grateful Anora had made a friend, and one who seemed a level headed balance to Cailan and his harebrained schemes.

His daughter had been devastated when Theadosia had vanished. While Lord and Lady Trevelyan had put on a reasonably proper show, however insincere, of briefly searching for and then mourning their youngest daughter, Anora had sent out countless search parties. She had never believed that her friend had died, but no matter how many knights she sent, no matter how many mages she consulted with, Theadosia could not be found. In fact, not even the castle Theadosia had made her home in the wilds of the forest could be located. It was as though it had never existed.

Until now.

Loghain threw up his hands in a futile gesture of frustration, then pried open the door Theadosia had just slammed shut. _She must be stronger than she looks_ , he noted. He began wandering the halls with no particular direction in mind, simply intending to try and get his bearings, mentally mapping out his new home. Eventually he intended to see about getting his hands on some parchment and ink and drawing up a proper map, but for now it would be enough to simply get a feel for the castle. It occurred to him that he ought to be more perturbed by his current situation, and yet somehow he was more intrigued than anything else. Anora had not been afraid, and he trusted her judgement.

More than that, he was finally out of the palace in Denerim. Despite his captivity, he had more freedom within these walls than he had in the past five years. There was none of Eamon’s needling or snide remarks, or the glares and whispers from other courtiers who believed he ought to have been executed for his mistakes. There was no one pounding on his door demanding that he deal with this bit of minutiae or that, and there would be no long, formal dinners to sit through whilst fighting a headache. He was also willing to bet there had to be some books lying about somewhere, maybe even ones he had not read yet, and if nothing else there were always the training dummies in one of the back courtyards.

All of these things were true. And yet… his mind kept returning to his mysterious captor. Theadosia. He wished he could remember her; remember the way she was before the curse. She’d conceded they had met before; had he liked her? Had she liked him?

“Please do not judge my cousin too harshly, Loghain.” Cataline’s soft, kind voice caught his attention from where she was perched on a banister, tail swishing amiably over the rails. “It has been many, many years since we have had any visitors to this place, and this is the first time since we were cursed that she has allowed anyone to stay.”

“How long have you…” He shrugged, uncertain if the question would offend or not.

Cataline hopped down and began padding down the hall. When Loghain hesitated, she tossed her head, inviting him to follow. He fell into step beside her as they wandered the long corridor. “Nine years,” she finally answered, a trace of sorrow in her voice. “The curse was placed on Thea’s twentieth birthday. Horrible timing, really, though I imagine that was why the witch chose that day to antagonize Thea. The house was full of her friends, gathered for a celebration. Thea had been happy,” Cataline reflected wistfully, “Which was still rare in those days, though becoming less so the longer she spent away from her parents. Nathaniel and I had come in from Highever for the occasion. Thea had been begging us to move our household here. There was plenty of room, and the three of us had always been close. Nigh inseparable, really. We were going to surprise her and tell her that we had made the decision to stay.”

“Nathaniel…” Loghain cast about in his memories, “Nathaniel Howe, yes? We were told he had died in the war.”

He’d never seen a cat roll its eyes before, but Cataline managed. “I suppose we ought to be grateful he was at least given an honorable death in his father’s lies. Obviously, Nathaniel is still very much alive, albeit not in any position to protest his father’s venom, even if the snake was still alive himself. I would guess this was simply a convenient way for Rendon to maneuver his youngest son, Thomas, into a better position as his heir apparent.”

Loghain looked at Cataline closely. “You know about Rendon’s death?”

She nodded, leading him into a cozy reading room and curling up neatly in one of the chairs by the hearth, which sprang to life with crackling flames as they entered. Loghain took the chair opposite her, and only startled a little when a wine glass nudged his hand and seemed to look at him in question. “Er… please,” he nodded, and the wine glass hopped over to a serving table, where a bottle poured a measure before the glass carefully returned to his side.

“You seem to be adjusting well,” Cataline gave a small purr of satisfaction. “But to return to your previous point, yes, we are not completely cut off from the news of the outside world. What we learn is very limited, but we knew of Rendon’s execution. I think that was the last time I actually saw Thea in a good mood, really. We also knew of Cailan’s death. Thea mourned for her friend’s loss, but I don’t think she ever had much use for the man.”

Loghain stared at his companion. “Then… she knows about…”

“She does,” Cataline interrupted gently. “For whatever it is worth, Thea thought you made the right choice. She does not envy you having to make it, but she never doubted that you did what you had to do.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Cataline basking in the warmth of the fire and Loghain taking an occasional sip of wine. “So,” she finally spoke again, “Are you going to ask me, or are you going to take a chance and see if Thea will tell you?”  
  
“I was not sure if I should,” Loghain replied, though internally he was battling an intense curiosity. “I have been accused of being… blunt. Which is fine in a war room but less appreciated in social conversation, I’ve found.”

Cataline sighed, her ears twitching slightly. “Had we more time, I would wait for her to tell you. But as we are on a bit of a tight schedule, you need to know. That warm spring day, Thea’s birthday, was supposed to be one of celebration.” Her violet eyes drifted towards the fire, the light of the flames dancing in a gaze that was staring into the past. “Nearly everyone came. We all love her, and even if we didn’t, one does not lightly turn down an invitation from a Trevelyan. Later, we realized it was only Maker-blessed luck that Anora _hadn’t_ been there, or else she would have been cursed just the same as us.”

“I remember that day,” Loghain spoke slowly, the fog lifting from his memory. “Anora was furious she could not go, but she had to meet with the ambassador from Orlais about… trade goods? Something she felt was utterly unworthy her time, but it was her responsibility. She was going the queen, someday. We had no way of knowing just how soon that day would come.”

“Just so,” Cataline agreed sadly. “I did not know Maric well, but I know he was your best friend. You have my sympathy for your loss, despite the time that has passed.”

“Thank you,” Loghain acknowledged, bowing his head slightly. “You said it was a witch that cursed you all?”

Cataline’s tail flicked slightly. “She was a mage, though Thea simply refers to her as ‘the witch’. One from the circle tower at Kinloch Hold, and one who did not think much of the other mages Thea kept company with, especially given that several of them were… well… apostates.” Cataline gave a delicate shrug of one feline shoulder. “One was also an unapologetic blood mage, and one was an exiled Tevinter magister. It was an interesting mix, but Thea has always kept interesting company. She is terribly picky about who she judges worthy of her time, and if she likes someone she does not much care about their background. Void, Lady Vivienne was the arcane advisor to the imperial court in Orlais before she ended up here, trapped with the rest of us, and you would be hard-pressed to find a mage more pro-circle than Vivienne. Still, Thea was dear to her, and she always respected the unspoken rules of sanctuary here.”

“So it was none of her guests that cast the curse?” Loghain pressed, impatience getting the better of him.

Cataline shook her feline head emphatically. “Absolutely not. As I said: we love her, we all do. For all that her parents treated her abysmally, the rest of us just wanted to see her happy. Perhaps we spoiled her a bit; it has always been difficult to tell her no, and she never seemed to ask for anything egregious. But oh… that _temper_.

She is fiercely protective of us, Loghain,” Cataline continued. “She would do anything to keep us safe. The mage came to the castle on the day of the party, demanding Thea hand over the apostate mages so they could be remanded to the custody of the tower. Thea, of course, refused. She bade the mage leave, and never darken her doorstep again. It could have ended there. It _should_ have ended there. But the mage insisted, and Thea lost her temper. Well,” Cataline amended drily, “That may be a bit of an understatement. Thea flew into a _rage_. She screamed at the mage, hurling every insult she could think of, and making all manner of threats. We had not seen her lose control like this before. Perhaps it was simply a storm years in the making that finally broke, or perhaps she was already in a state of anxiety because of the party and the mage just pushed her too far. I don’t know.”

Cataline’s eye met his, and Loghain could see a deep, exhausted sadness there. “The mage did not say anything at first. Then, she pointed her staff at Thea and said, ‘the world will know you to be as ugly on the outside as you are on the inside.’ Which tells me that she did not really know Thea at all,” Cataline snarled. “For all that she was damaged in the past and had a nasty temper, Thea always had a good heart. She was unfailingly kind to animals, and as I said, fiercely loyal to her friends. But that did not matter. As the mage left, a sudden snow began to fall upon the castle grounds, even though moments before it had been a beautiful spring day. As the snow fell, we were… changed. Some of us became animals, some became objects, and Thea became the Beast. I do not deny that Thea acted rashly and in anger,” Cataline exhaled heavily, “But nor do I believe the punishment fit her crime. She was young and impetuous and had come from a broken and neglectful home. Thea has grown since then, but of course that does nothing to change what was done.”

Loghain was quiet for a moment, his mind reeling. “So… you are all trapped here forever? Is there no way to break the curse?”

“Not forever. Not exactly,” Cataline replied, her tone grim. “This is powerful magic, Loghain. By rights, no one should even be able to find this place, save for those who ventured right up to the gates.”

“But both Anora and I were able to see it from some distance,” Loghain pointed out, frowning slightly. “Why? Why now?”

Cataline seemed to consider this, and when she answered, her words came slowly. “I do not know exactly. I suppose it is possible the spell is weakening the closer we get to the end.”

“The ‘end’?”

“Thea was given ten years, Loghain.” She turned from him to face the fire once more. “Ten years in which there was but one single way for the curse to be broken. She must find someone who loves her, truly, completely, and exactly the way she is. As of three days ago, nine years have passed. Should the curse not be broken, she will die, and the rest of us will remain trapped as we are forever.”

With that, she hopped down from the chair and walked towards the door, but she paused at the entrance and looked back at him.

“You are _certain_ you saw the castle from afar, Loghain? Not simply trees that could be mistaken for towers, or a trick of the light?”

Loghain shook his head emphatically. “Absolutely not. When I rode into the forest, there was no mistaking this place.”

Cataline tilted her head in curiosity, but asked him no further questions, instead leaving him alone to consider what she had told him.  


* * *

  
Cataline raced down the hall, weaving nimbly in and out of corridors and back passages and around furniture. When she reached the library, Nathaniel caught up to her.

“Where have you been off to?” He asked. “I haven’t seen you since the disaster this morning.”

“It was hardly a disaster,” Cataline rolled her eyes. “It was a minor setback. However, now that you’re here, I could use your help.”

“Anything, Wildflower,” Nathaniel promised, and Cataline felt her heart flutter. It had been nine long years since they had been able to truly hold each other; to kiss each other or fall into bed together. It was almost too much to hope their suffering might finally be at an end.

“Both Anora _and_ Loghain said they were able to see the castle from a distance,” Cataline said, “But that shouldn’t be possible. The magic has held this long; why break down now when the curse is nearing its completion?”

“Good question,” Nathaniel replied. “What are you thinking?”

Cataline stretched up onto her hind legs, using her front paws to press open the door to the library. “I intend to consult with our resident experts.”

It was an unlikely cadre that met them. The spell had not spared the mages any more than it had the rest of them, to varying effects. Morrigan had been trapped in the shape of a spider: not the monstrous form she had once enjoyed using to torment unwary templars, but a small, harmless little thing. Dorian had morphed into the armchair he had so often occupied when he was a human and now complained often about the indignity. Merrill was a gardening trowel that never seemed to spend much time in the garden, now that they were in a perpetual winter, and Anders spent his days as a pair of surgeon’s scissors. As little as they had agreed upon in life, they all now seemed to spend most of their time bickering and debating in the castle’s library. Only Vivienne remained in the west wing, acting as Thea’s wardrobe and doing her best to give her old friend reminders of the other woman’s humanity.

“Everyone? I need your help.” Cataline hopped up on the desk, careful not to knock Anders over the edge or to displace Merrill. Dorian shuffled a bit closer.

“Did you finally bring us something _interesting_ to talk about?” The former Tevinter mage drawled, not bothering to hide his skepticism. “Rumor has it there is someone new in the castle.”

“There is,” Nathaniel confirmed. “Loghain Mac Tir.”

The room fell silent until Dorian was the first to break it. “You can’t be serious?” His voice was hushed, almost a whisper. “How?”

“By way of his daughter,” Cataline replied. “That is what I came to ask about. You have all retained your ability to sense magic. You can feel the curse that is woven into this place; into us. Tell me: have any of you felt it change recently? A weakening, maybe?”

Morrigan crawled closer, her myriad eyes alight in the reflection of the candles. “There was a disturbance yesterday. ‘Twas most odd, really. We all felt it. It was certainly not a weakening of the spell, though.”

“It felt as though… as though there were a change,” Anders added. “I can’t really explain it. The curse was still there, still strong, but it almost felt as if it had shifted.”

“I see,” Cataline nodded. “Thank you.”

Merrill’s sweet voice piped up. “What is this about, Cataline? Do you think he could be…?”

“I think the mage left us a loophole in the curse,” Cataline replied carefully.

_And yes. I think he could be the one._


	5. Chapter 5

For the first two weeks after Loghain had taken up residence in her home, Thea was barely aware of his presence. After their first mildly disastrous encounter in front of the ruined Trevelyan family portrait, she had done an exceptional job of avoiding him. After all, she still claimed the entire west wing of the castle as her private domain, and thus far he had honored her request that he not trespass upon her sanctuary. Cataline seemed to spend a great deal speaking with him, and she brought regular reports back to Thea. Nathaniel, meanwhile, needled at her endlessly, attempting to convince her to shelve whatever shame and horror she felt at her own hideous visage and simply make an attempt at talking to their guest.

“I may have a bit more sympathy,” he pointed out drily one afternoon while she was hiding away in her cavernous library, “If I did not already know damn well that you were once hopelessly smitten with the man. You are already halfway towards solving our little problem, but you are letting your damned pride and cowardice overrule common sense.”

“I am no coward, Nathaniel Howe,” Thea spat bitterly. “I just…” she threw up her hands helplessly. “Look at me, Nate,” she muttered, annoyed at the hint of despair in her voice. “I was no great beauty before this, and now…” her voice trailed off as she sunk deeper into the armchair.

“Oh, Thea,” Nathaniel sighed, swooping down from his perch by the fire to come and nuzzle her cheek. “You are better than that. You _know_ that there are things more important than physical appearance, although I would argue your point about being ‘no great beauty’. Are you saying you are only attracted to him because of the way he looks?”

“It sure as the void helps,” Thea grumbled, and Nathaniel gave a low croak that passed for laughter in his current form. “But… no. Of course not.”

“Then stop being a damn hermit and go down to dinner,” he chided. “He has been joining us for the past week, and I strongly suspect he would appreciate it if you made an appearance. If nothing else, satiate his curiosity. You owe him that much.”

Thea stood up with an exaggerated huff of irritation. “Oh fine. I suppose one dinner could not hurt.”

She walked down the hall towards the main dining room, doing her best not to look in any mirrors or reflective surfaces along the way so as not to lose her nerve. When she reached the dining room, she was greeted by a surprised mew from Cataline, and Loghain turned from his seat to greet her with a small nod.

“Lady Trevelyan,” he said as she took her place at the head of the table, neatly tucking her napkin into her lap and accepting a glass of wine.

“Teyrn Mac Tir,” she replied. “How are- are you-”

“I am well, thank you,” he finished for her, putting her out of her own awkward misery. “Cataline has proven to be an indispensible guide, though I admit I am grateful for your presence this evening. I had begun to doubt my own sanity as to your existence.”

Thea gave a small laugh despite herself. “I fear I am quite real, Teyrn Mac Tir. I simply worried that my more immediate presence would be... disarming. Even were I in my human form, it has been a long time since we have had guests in this place beyond my unfortunate companions. I hope that, if nothing else, you have been comfortable here?”

“Quite,” he reassured her, shifting to allow the dishes to settle in front of him with the evening meal. “And I do not find your company so horrifying as you may think. Honestly, compared to that of the Fereldan court, it is quite the improvement.”

She laughed again before she could stop herself, more fully and brightly, and matters were not helped any when she noticed a small smile flicker over Loghain’s lips as she did. “You make a fair point,” she conceded, doing her best to maneuver her own silverware as she spoke. It had been nearly a decade, but she still sometimes struggled with the finer points of existence in the form she had been cursed with. Mostly, she had simply foregone any meals that required such niceties, and now she was ruing her lack of practice. Still, she managed. “Tell me: is Eamon Guerrin still around?”

Loghain gave a small grunt of disgust. “Unfortunately. And after Cailan died his attempts to depose Anora took on a new life. His newest campaign seeks to place Maric’s bastard son, Alistair, on the throne instead of Anora. Fortunately, the boy seems to have more sense than his older brother did. Marginally. In fact, I believe the only reason he is holding back his affections for his own beloved is because he worries a marriage between himself and an Antivan princess would somehow be more of a threat.”

“Would it?” Thea asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“Not in the slightest,” Loghain shook his head emphatically. “Honestly, it would be a bit of a step down politically for Princess Felicita, but they seem to be rather taken with each other. It would be a good match, for him at least.”

“Hm,” Thea hummed thoughtfully, picking at the bread on her plate. “Perhaps I _should_ have eaten him. Saved you some trouble.”

Loghain looked up from his food, staring at her for a moment. “My lady. Did you just make a joke?”

Thea gave him a small half smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t make a habit of it.”

“On the contrary,” he corrected, “I was beginning to fear you were one of those high born women who could not be bothered with such lowly things as humor.”

“Says the high born lord who once ruled Gwaren,” she retorted.

Loghain sighed, and Thea instantly regretted her words. “Once, yes,” he acknowledged quietly. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

He shrugged, accepting an apple from the bowl that had sidled closer to him with a small nod of thanks. “I was not born to my title. I was granted it by Maric after he reclaimed his throne. Before I met him, I was simply a farmer’s son. My daughter claims she has trouble believing it, given how absolutely useless I am with plants, but there you have it. To be honest, some days I wonder if I might have been happier had I remained where I was. If I had never met Maric, or joined the rebellion. I was so young…”

“I had a full time gardener,” Thea admitted, trying to alleviate some of the tension. “Merrill. Absolutely brilliant with any plant life imaginable. She always made sure I had fresh blooms on my tables, just because she was thoughtful that way. I, on the other hand, managed to kill plants just by looking at them.”

Loghain laughed quietly. “I suppose it is good to know you have some flaws, at least.”

Now it was Thea’s turn to stare. “‘Some’ flaws? Teyrn Mac Tir, I practically have an entire menagerie of them. Including but not limited to, as you so helpfully pointed out, my snippishness and my cynicism.”

“I apologize, Lady Trevelyan,” he inclined his head slightly. “Despite my time at court, sometimes I still find my social graces lacking. I did not mean to offend by my statement, and I sincerely hope it is not that which has kept you from your own table these past weeks.”

Thea shook her head slowly. “No, Teyrn Mac Tir. I simply did not wish to ruin your appetite.”

“Lady Trevelyan, given that you are proving to be a witty and intelligent conversationalist, I should rather think I would appreciate your company more than that of my own. But I wish you would simply call me ‘Loghain.’ I have not been a teyrn for several years, and I think we are beyond the point of other such useless formalities.”

“Fair enough,” Thea agreed with another small smile. _I have got to stop doing that_. “But only if you stop referring to me as Lady Trevelyan. Theadosia is fine, or Thea, whichever you prefer.”

“You have a beautiful name, Theadosia,” he replied quietly. “Thank you for permitting me to speak it.”

She turned away then, afraid he would see the color blossoming in her cheeks. “Of course,” she said gruffly, then cast about desperately in her rapidly unmooring thoughts for a change of subject. “You and Maric… you were close?”

“He was my best friend,” Loghain confirmed. “He was the reason I joined the rebellion in the first place.”

“Your famed military genius had nothing to do with it?” Thea teased gently.

Loghain gave a small huff. “You may be giving me too much credit, but… yes. The rebel army were badly outnumbered, and they were not being used to their best potential. I like to believe I changed that, boy that I was. And I got better at it as years passed, until-” He stopped short, and Thea knew he was thinking back to the Battle of Ostagar. The battle that saw his son-in-law dead and their nation without a king. She hesitated, then tentatively reached out a clawed hand to place gently on his arm.

“I know it is meaningless, coming from a foreigner and a monster, but for whatever it is worth, I believe you made the right decision,” she informed him quietly.

He gave a short bark of laughter. “Yes, Cataline told me as much.” Despite the wryness of his tone, he briefly placed his hand over hers and gave it a small squeeze before she withdrew it. “If at least a slight majority of Ferelden did not agree with you, my head would have been on a pike long ago.”

“And the world would have been poorer for it,” Thea snapped, uncertain who exactly she was angry with, but Loghain simply shrugged.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps I would just become a footnote to history: another in a long line of generals who made a single, fatal error.”

The conversation fell away, and they both ate in silence for a time before he spoke up again. “And what of you, Theadosia? There is clearly no love lost between you and your parents. How did you come to find yourself in Ferelden?”

“I was a second daughter,” she began, almost automatically. “Unplanned. Unwanted. A common enough story, in noble houses. Ask Nathaniel about it sometime, although he is a bit unusual being a firstborn son. His father simply could not abide his inherent sense of right and wrong. He and I were the best of friends, and he of course was in love with my darling Cataline since they were teenagers. I found solace in my books, my music, my archery… it was not a happy life, exactly, but it was not so terrible. Anyways, my family came to Ferelden to visit my Aunt Eleanor and Uncle Bryce, and I fell in with Anora. We became fast friends, although I think I only attended her at court once. The day I- the day I met you.” Her eyes fell away, her cheeks warming again at the memory. She had admitted to precious few that she had fallen in love with Loghain Mac Tir the moment she had met him; had fallen in love with his intelligence, his sharp wit, and his devotion to those he loved.

“I wish I remembered more of that day,” he said by way of apology, “But there were so many who came in and out of the palace, and there was always _something_ demanding my attention…”

“It is quite alright, Loghain,” Thea laughed wryly, her claws tapping against her wineglass out of old habit. “Anyways, I told Anora how unhappy I was in Ostwick, and she petitioned Maric to grant me holdings in Ferelden. A wedding gift, she called it. A true friend in a place where she had so few. Maric agreed, and I was given these lands to build upon as I saw fit. A sign of friendship between Ferelden and Ostwick. My parents, seizing their chance, dumped me here and never looked back. I suspect they were downright overjoyed I ended up cursed and trapped, never to darken their doorstep or threaten their precious bloodline ever again.”

“Would you go back to Ostwick, if you could?” Loghain asked quietly.

“No,” Thea shook her head emphatically, threatening to dislodge her carefully constructed braids. “Despite my unorthodox arrival, I was content here, Loghain. I was building a life here. And then I threw it all away in a single fit of temper.”

Loghain took a long sip of wine, then faced her. “Have you truly found no happiness here, even now?”

Thea shrugged. “I still have my books, and my archery, though using a bow or handling my books is a bit more awkward given these.” She splayed her hand in front of him, exhibiting her claws. “I… I still have not worked out how to pick up music again. But honestly?” She hesitated, wondering if it was her comfort with the man at her side or the wine in her blood that was prompting her to speak. “I think that, were it not for my keen desire to free my friends and family from the curse I brought down upon them, I would have given in long ago. I would have simply… slipped away.”

To her surprise, this time it was Loghain who tentatively reached out and placed his hand in hers.

“I’m rather glad you didn’t.”

 

* * *

 

 

They fell into a routine. Thea no longer hid in her rooms at mealtimes, instead joining Loghain in the main dining hall. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they simply sat in companionable silence. Despite her earlier reticence, she found herself glad for the company, especially now that she was no longer quite so afraid of tripping over every other word in his presence. It was odd; she had never been so damnably tongue tied in her life, but something about him brought out both the best and the worst in her.

One day, a few months into their cohabitation, Thea followed Loghain out to his makeshift training yard after their morning meal. She watched for awhile as he ran through a series of forms and, though her gaze was hardly unappreciative, he did not seem terribly put out by her presence, and she therefore made it part of her daily routine to be present whilst he trained. For what, she was not exactly certain, until one day she found the courage to ask.

“Because I have no desire to grow old and fat like Eamon did,” he shrugged, setting the dull blade aside.

“You are hardly old,” Thea snorted. “And you are, if I may be so bold, entirely well fit. I-” She stopped herself before she finished the sentence she had originally intended. _I would have gladly taken you to bed, had I not been a monster_.

He seemed to have known what she intended to say anyways, based on the small smile he shot in her direction. Thea simply rolled her eyes. Still, Loghain had been kind to her. More than he probably should have been, given the circumstances of their unlikely friendship, if it could be called that. In a fit of sudden affection, she spoke up again.

“You know, there are other things to do around here other than hitting things with pointy metal sticks.”

Loghain looked at her, a single brow raised. “Oh?”

Thea hopped down from the wall where she had been perched, her tail twitching nervously. _Damn it. I’ve got to get that under control_. “Come with me.”

She led him back into the castle, through the main hall and towards the west wing. When she looked back and saw his brow furrowed in confusion, she tried to give him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I know. But this… I am willing to make an exception for this.” When they reached the door she sought, she paused, her hands on the door handles. She turned back and looked at him.

“Close your eyes.”

To her surprise, he did as she asked. She swung open the doors, then gently led him into the room with a careful hand at his back. “Keep them closed,” she instructed, dancing over to the windows and pulling open the curtains on the large picture windows for the first time in years. Thea came back to stand at Loghain’s side, resisting every urge to touch him. Instead, she simple spoke three quiet words.

“Alright. Open them.”

She studied him carefully as his eyelids fluttered open and his eyes adjusted to the light, growing just slightly larger as he took in his surroundings. “Andraste’s blood,” he whispered, taking another step into the room. “It’s… it’s amazing.”

Thea felt a warmth bloom in her heart. “It is one of my favorite rooms in the castle,” she admitted. “This library has always been my sanctuary, even before I was changed, but even more so after. These books became my escape; a glimpse into a world I might never see again.”

Loghain began wandering the floor, his fingers brushing lightly over the piano that had not been played for over nine long years. “There must be thousands of volumes in here.” His eyes caught a shelf just above his head. “Some of these are first editions… out of print…”

“They are yours, to read as you like,” Thea told him, her voice hushed despite the silence of the room. “There is precious little I can do to make your time here less tedious but this, this is something I can share. It is a treasured sanctuary, and one place I still find joy despite the coldness in the rest of my world. Perhaps you will as well.”

“I do not know what to say, Theadosia,” Loghain murmured, returning to her side and, before she could protest, he bent and pressed a kiss to her hand.

“Thank you.”


	6. Chapter 6

He ought to have been more upset about his current predicament; ought to have been planning some sort of escape or attempting to get a message to the outside world. And yet, who would be terribly bothered by it? The only person who probably felt much by his absence was Anora, and she was the one who had traded his life away in the first place. That, too, ought to have troubled him more than it did.

For despite everything, Loghain was not unhappy in the enchanted castle, deep in the woods and so tantalizingly close to the sea, much like his former keep in Gwaren. The relative solitude suited him, and the company he did keep was far more pleasant than that of the courtiers and politicians that infested the palace at Denerim. Even that of his seemingly reluctant captor, Theadosia.

_Especially Theadosia_.

The thought kept creeping into his mind, despite his best efforts to banish it. Even if he could admit to feeling… something… for Theadosia, there were a host of issues that had absolutely nothing to do with her curse. There was the score of years between them for one thing, though that hardly seemed to trouble her. There was also his own less than charming personality, though that too did not seem to be terribly off-putting to her. Perhaps after all these years she was simply desperate for company, and yet she seemed to be actively seeking him out these days more often than not. That is, on the rare occasions he could not think of an excuse to find her.

He could understand why she had been so dear to Anora. Theadosia, despite her temper, was highly intelligent and equally witty, with a beautifully dry sense of humor that meshed well with his own. She was fiercely loyal to those in her care; those who shared her burden through no fault of her own, and she had been kind to him when she had no particular obligation to be. Loghain was, surprisingly, content with his current state of affairs.

Content, except for the knowledge that hung over his head like a blade: Theadosia was running out of time. Her, and all those she loved. Besides that, much to his bemusement, there was the knowledge that he was growing to care for her as well. The thought of her perishing filled him with anger, and sorrow, and frustration.

It was this knowledge that drove him to make the choice he did. He could not, _would_ not, simply stand by and let her die. Cataline had said that only true love could break the spell, but would Theadosia ever be able to truly love him? He was not willing to take that risk. And so he made the decision to break one of the only two rules she had set for him.

He entered the west wing of the castle, moving as silently as he could. Last he knew, Theadosia had dozed off in front of the fire in the library, reading one of her favorite books with Cataline curled up beside her and Nathaniel deep in discussion with Anders. He knew he would not have much time, but he also knew he needed to see the source of the curse if he was going to try and puzzle anything out.

The forbidden halls of the castle were, fortunately, a mirror of the left wing, so he was able to wend his way through them with some skill based on the maps he had sketched of the rest of the place. He began quietly checking rooms, until finally, on the third floor, he found the one he was looking for. It must have been Theadosia’s bedroom, and Loghain felt a small pang of guilt at trespassing on her most personal space, but he pushed the door open anyway and entered.

It was remarkably tidy, although he wasn’t sure what else he was expecting. The rest of the castle was kept in an equally neat state. His hand brushed absently against the bed sheets as he passed, and he almost shivered at the coolness against his skin. A beautiful golden hand mirror sat on her dresser, alongside a well loved silver comb and hairbrush. He idly wondered if she had ever worn much jewelry before. Gold would have looked nice against her fair skin…

His musings were interrupted by a single pedestal on the balcony that caught his attention. Honestly, he wasn’t certain how he had missed it, as it stood out like a bronto amidst the rest of the room. There, under a glass case, a single red rose hung suspended just above the surface of the pedestal. Actually, it wasn’t much of a rose. Granted, Loghain had never been good with plants so he was certainly no expert, but this thing looked to be dying. Most of the bloom lay withered around it, with only a few tenacious crimson petals still clinging to the vibrant green stem. He peered closer at it, briefly considering what might happen if he removed the glass.

“For someone who made a career out of issuing orders, you are certainly bad at following them, aren’t you?”

Loghain spun around to see Theadosia leaning against the doorway, a single brow raised and her ears twitching slightly. She did not sound angry, however; simply resigned and tired. Pushing herself off the doorframe, she stepped towards him, but her eyes were focused on the rose. When she was near enough that he could have reached out and taken her hand, she paused, and Loghain’s heart twinged a bit at the despair in her eyes.

“I was never quite certain,” she murmured, “If the witch’s choice of flower was a final act of malice, or one of pity. I have never liked roses much. Perhaps she chose it simply so I would feel less of an ache as it faded away. The last bit of life in this place.”

Loghain did reach out to her then, and was only slightly surprised when she accepted the gesture, wrapping her long claws carefully around his fingers. “What would you have picked?” He asked quietly.

Theadosia thought for a moment, and when she replied she almost seemed embarrassed to be making such an admission. “I have always loved sunflowers best,” she confessed. “I used to have them in the castle from late spring all the way through early fall, and I have not had any since… since the winter descended. Merrill tried to coax some into growing, but they did not thrive without the sun. But then,” she gave a dry breath of laughter.

“Perhaps none of us could.”

 

* * *

 

In retrospect, it had been a supremely stupid decision.

Not having been too terribly chastised for having disobeyed Theadosia once, Loghain had found himself perhaps too emboldened. After she had dismissed him from her rooms, he had decided to take a long walk to clear his head and think. He planned to spend the rest of the afternoon in the library, trying to find some way to break or mitigate the curse, but for now he simply needed fresh air.

Walking along the edges of the castle grounds, where the walls met the world outside, Loghain was met with a startling realization. Outside the confines of the castle, summer had descended on the world. And there, just on the other side of the wall, was a small patch of bright sunflowers. One would not have been able to see them save for through the wrought iron gate, but they were there. Surely simply slipping out and then right back in would do no harm? There was always the threat of the wolves, but he would only be a moment, and it was the middle of the day.

Besides. It was not as if he had any damn intention of leaving; not really. But Theadosia had seemed so heartbroken earlier, and if he could do this one small thing to make her smile…

And so Loghain had carefully stepped outside of the gate, leaving it open behind him in case he had to make a quick escape. He stepped over to the blossoms and, using the small knife he had been allowed to keep, he quickly sliced one of the brilliant blooms from its stem. The entire process took only a matter of moments, yet when he looked up, he rapidly backed up until he was against the wall. There, facing him, were a half dozen snarling, snapping wolves, their fangs glinting in the sunlight and their hackles raised.

Very, very slowly, Loghain began to inch his way towards the gate, but every time he moved the wolves closed in a bit more. They seemed to be enjoying toying with him. Just when he thought he may be able to make the final few steps to the safety of the castle grounds, a particularly large wolf, probably the alpha, snapped its jaw in his direction and lunged forward, cutting off his escape.

_This is an extremely stupid way to die_ , Loghain thought grimly, trying to decide if it would even be worth trying to defend himself with the small pocket blade he still held. He closed his eyes, ready for the pain that was surely about to overwhelm him, but it did not come. Instead, there was a shrill roar like the call of a mountain cat, and the light _thud_ of feet hitting the ground in front of him. Loghain opened his eyes, and was both glad and dismayed to see Theadosia standing between him and the wolves. She was snarling at them, fangs on full display and tail whipping back and forth angrily.

“Get back. Inside. The walls.”

“I am not leaving you out here alone,” he argued. She still did not turn to face him, every ounce of her attention focused on the pack.

“I can handle this, Loghain,” Theadosia growled, her voice sounding more wild than he had become accustomed to. “Just get back inside the damn walls so I do not have to worry about you, too.”

Reluctantly, he obeyed, moving slowly but steadily back towards the gate. The moment he stepped back within the safety of the castle grounds, the alpha male lunged towards Theadosia, sinking its jaw into her leg before she could shake it loose. There was another sharp cry, this time of pain, and Loghain had to stop himself from stepping back outside the boundaries of the walls to help her. She swept her arm towards the alpha, shoving it aside with more force than Loghain had expected. Apparently, the wolf had not been expecting it either, because it looked up from the ground with a look of bemused indignation before getting back on its feet. Theadosia took a knife from her own belt, slashing it jaggedly across her arm and swinging the resulting blood in a wide arc. Where the drops fell, the wolves retreated backwards, suddenly wary again. Having made her offering, Theadosia limped haphazardly back towards the gate, managing to stumble inside before she collapsed at his feet.

“You should have just let them tear into me,” he chided angrily, although it took him a moment to realize why he was angry at all. _I almost lost her. And it was my fault_. He scooped her up in his arms, momentarily surprised at how light she felt.

“And _you_ should not have left the grounds,” she grumbled, but she had allowed her head to rest gently against his shoulder. “What in the void were you thinking? You could have been killed, you idiot.”

“I… I wanted to bring you this.” Loghain shifted her slightly so that he could retrieve the single brilliant blossom he had managed to harvest. “You said you loved them, and that you had not had them in so long…”

_I just wanted to see you smile._

Theadosia accepted the sunflower carefully in her claws, staring at it for a moment before she passed out completely.

 

* * *

 

 

To his relief, no one gave him much grief when he brought a badly bleeding Theadosia into the castle. Cataline and Nathaniel seemed alarmed, but when he explained what had happened as they made their way to Theadosia’s bedroom, they accepted it without issue or reprimand. In fact, if Loghain did not know any better, he would have sworn they exchanged a look when he told them about his idiocy with the flower.

When they reached the bedroom, Cataline directed him to a linen cabinet where he would find old sheets suitable to lay Theadosia on while they tended to her wounds. Nathaniel led him to a medicine cabinet where he was able to find supplies for stitches, as well as anapestic and bandages. When Loghain raised an eyebrow at the sheer volume of supplies, Nathaniel just shrugged his wings.

“You think this is the first time the offering has been made? Normally, however, the wolves do not dare get close enough to harm her.”

“What _are_ they?” Loghain asked as he returned to the space on the floor they had cleared and put down Theadosia. Cataline had managed to pull a pillow down from the bed, which Loghain carefully placed under Theadosia’s head.

“We think they are possessed,” Cataline replied, briefly brushing a paw over her face. “Though we cannot be certain, as none of us are particularly eager to get that close to them. You’ll want a vase for that, by the way.” She nodded in the direction of the sunflower, which had fallen from Theadosia’s hand in her unconscious state.

“I’m a bit busy,” Loghain replied drily, gesturing to the blood on his hands and on Theadosia’s body.

“Naturally,” Cataline sniffed. “I think I know where one is, and it ought to be light enough for Nathaniel to retrieve. Love, could you..?”

“Of course, Wildflower.”

As Nathaniel flew off into the hall, Loghain returned his attention to his patient. It had been some time since he’d had to field dress a wound, but he remembered the basics well enough. He carefully cleaned the gashes and sterilized the needle before opening a clean packet of thread. Then, taking a deep breath, he began to carefully stitch up the nasty bite in Theadosia’s leg. The action must have forced the woman back into consciousness, because she stirred beneath his hands, a low moan of pain coming from her throat. Her eyelids fluttered open briefly before shutting again, and her body began to tremble either from shock or exhaustion or cold. Loghain wasn’t sure, but he forced his hands to keep working, trying to minimize the pain.

“Shhh, it’s alright, Theadosia,” he murmured, trying to keep her calm. “You are doing wonderfully. I am nearly finished with your leg, and then we’ll see to your arm.”  
  
She mumbled something he could not understand, but he did not try to ask her to speak again. Instead, he tied off the last stitch on her leg and moved to her arm. It was there he realized that Nathaniel had spoken true: this was clearly not the first time Theadosia had offered her own blood to the wolves. In fact, his mind was taken back to a cool spring day months ago when his daughter had been granted safe passage in exchange for such an ‘offering.’ He did not comment on it, however; he simply worked in silence.

At some point Nathaniel returned with the vase, although he grumbled a bit about how it was much heavier than Cataline had led him to believe. Cataline simply purred softly and nudged her head against him. Having finished his makeshift surgery, Loghain gently lifted Theadosia into his arms again before laying her in her own bed. He poured some water from the pitcher on her vanity into the vase before placing the sunflower in it and leaving it on her bedside table. He was about to turn and leave in order to allow her to rest, but her voice stopped him.

“Are you… alright?”

Her speaking was still slightly labored, and Loghain could tell she was in a great deal of pain. Cataline said something about having some whiskey sent up and trotted out of the room, followed closely by Nathaniel. “I am fine, Theadosia,” he replied, pulling a chair up close to her bed and sitting down beside her. “I am simply sorry you paid for my arrogance.”

“What in the world were you thinking?” She peered at him, her eyes slightly bleary but coming back into focus. “Loghain, if anything had happened to you, I would have never forgiven myself.”

“Theadosia, you have precious little in this world that brings you joy,” Loghain replied, a bit defensively. “When I saw the sunflowers, I just… I just wanted you to have some small thing, however fleeting, to bring some light back into your life.”

She stared at him and, for just the briefest breath of time, Loghain could have sworn the golden cat eyes flashed a beautiful, stormy blue. But then he blinked, and they were back to the way they had always been in the time he’d known her. “Loghain, that was an incredibly stupid thing you did,” she sighed. “But… but it was also incredibly sweet, and thoughtful, and… thank you.” She looked up at him, and she smiled, warm and true. “I love it.”

“You are welcome, Theadosia,” he spoke softly. She nestled back down against her pillow, wincing slightly against the pain. Loghain sat there, uncertain what to do, until Nathaniel returned carrying a book in his talons. He set it carefully in Loghain’s lap, then looked at him expectantly, gesturing his head in the direction of Theadosia. Loghain frowned slightly, but took the book anyways and opened it to chapter one.

“They say coin never sleeps, but anyone who’s walked the patrol of Hightown Market at midnight might disagree. The pickpockets and confidence men head to the taverns at dusk, the dwarven businessmen and nobles go back to their tiny palaces to fret over the ways they got cheated, and the market falls silent…”

He read to her for almost an hour. Cataline arrived with the whiskey and the enchanted glasses, and Loghain helped Theadosia sit up and take a few sips before she settled back in. Twenty minutes later, she had fallen fast asleep. Loghain shut the book and set it aside. He pulled the covers up over Theadosia, tucking her in and then, after a moment of hesitation, he bent down a pressed a soft kiss against her temple.

“Sleep well, Theadosia,” he whispered, before quietly slipping out of the room.


	7. Chapter 7

They no longer avoided one another.

In fact, Thea found herself in Loghain’s company more often than not. It had seemed as though they had been heading in that direction even before the incident with the wolves, but he had proven to be particularly attentive to her as she healed. Thea had assumed that would end once she was well enough to manage on her own again, and had been pleasantly surprised when it had not. If anything, they were growing even closer.

It terrified her.

The witch’s curse had been a terribly effective one: she had known how temperamental Thea was, and how reluctant the young woman was to opening herself up to others. Even if there _had_ been other visitors to the castle, it was unlikely she would have allowed them in, or allowed them to see the monster she had become. Really, had it been anyone other than Anora Mac Tir who had stumbled upon her enchanted lair, Thea would have more than likely spent her last fleeting year alone and abandoned.

That chance meeting seemed as though it had happened a lifetime ago. Anora had traded her father’s life for her own, and Thea alone knew why. She prayed Loghain did not resent his daughter for her choice, which had been made with the best possible intentions. It had still been a gamble; even with Thea feeling the way she did, there was no guarantee Loghain would return those feelings, or that he would not simply try to kill her and escape. Yet, against all odds, he had stayed. And for the first time in nearly a decade, the inhabitants of the castle had hope.

But time was running out. The ten year mark was nearly upon them, and if Loghain did not love her now, she was not certain if he ever would. It was this thought that currently had her pacing in the library, trying to think of something, _anything_ , she hadn’t already to break the curse. Some way, some loophole, to rescue the people she loved. Maker only knew she had long since given up on herself. Thea strongly suspected that, had it not been for the faint hope she still clung to that Loghain might feel for her the way she did for him, she would have simply walked out the front gates and allowed the wolves to finish the job.

“You are going to wear a hole in that rug.”

Thea looked up sharply at Loghain’s voice as he entered the library. “I haven’t yet,” she pointed out, “And this is hardly the first time I’ve been pacing.”

“The poor thing was probably grateful it got a reprieve while you were on the mend, then,” he observed drily, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Has it been giving you any pain?”

“No, not really,” Thea replied. It had been several months since the incident, and thanks to Loghain’s care her wounds had healed better than she could have hoped for. Even the limp that had resulted from the wolf’s jagged bite had disappeared with time. She watched curiously as Loghain sat at the piano in the corner of the room, frowning slightly has he set his fingers on the keys.

“Will it bother you?” He asked, his tone uncertain. “I usually try to come in here when you’re busy elsewhere so I do not disturb your reading.”

“Not at all.” Thea abandoned her pacing and joined him, settling in on a long sofa near the instrument. “I did not know you played.”

“It has been many, _many_ years,” Loghain admitted, slowly picking out a few notes. “It is not exactly a skill expected of a warrior. There were always other things that demanded my attention and time.” He sighed. “Always another battle to fight,” he muttered under his breath. “Here, however, I find myself with not only time, but the freedom to practice whenever I damn well please. So,” he gestured at the keys, “Here we are. You are certain it won’t disturb you?”

Thea offered him a smile, an occurrence that was becoming alarmingly habitual. “I would love to hear you play, Loghain,” she assured him. “It will be nice to have music in the place again. I-” She hesitated, then continued her thought with a soft exhale. “I used to love to play, and to sing. But I certainly don’t have the voice for it anymore, and it is rather difficult to play with these.” She held up her hands, wiggling her misshapen claws with a grimace.

“Ah,” Loghain nodded in understand. “Well, I look forward to hearing you play someday. And I certainly look forward to hearing you sing.”

Thea swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. _I envy your optimism_ , she thought silently, then lay her head down on the arm of the sofa, holding back the tears as Loghain began to play. She remembered the song, something from long ago. She remembered the words, and the way the melody lilted and danced. Too quickly, it seemed, the song ended, the last notes fading into the stillness of the library. Loghain stood and walked over to where she lay, kneeling down beside her.

“What’s wrong, Theadosia?” he asked quietly, his hand reaching up to gently wipe a tear from her cheek.

_Tell him. Just say the damn words._

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t say the three words her heart was crying out.

_I love you_.

She shook her head.

“Nothing.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Theadosia Livia Trevelyan, would you pull your head out of your own ass and just tell him how you feel?”

Cataline rarely raised her voice, and even less frequently against Thea, who was currently moping in her room. She had been perfectly content to do so, too, until her cousin and her best friend had barged in and begun lecturing her. “Why? So we can do the curse’s work for it?” She pouted. “Catkin, Nate, _look at me_. He will _never_ love me. Even had I not been transformed, I would have been hard pressed to catch his attention.”

“Thea, he’s crazy about you,” Nathaniel shot back irritably. “You should have seen him when you were recovering: constantly at your side, making sure you had fresh water and that you were tucked in, and reading to you until you fell asleep every night, even though half the time he ended up falling asleep in the chair shortly after. Carrying you down for meals because he didn’t want you re-opening the wound before it healed. Asking the kitchen to make your favorites when you were having a particularly difficult day. Nagging you to make sure you kept the wound and dressing clean.”

“He is kind to me because he has no other choice,” Thea pointed out wearily. “If I were to grant him his freedom today, he would be gone.”

“Has she always been this whiny?” Nathaniel asked his wife, not bothering to lower his voice, and Thea spun around to glare at him. Cataline gave a feline shrug.

“I certainly don’t remember her ever being so. The Thea _I_ remember would not be sitting in front of a looking glass obsessing over things she could not change. She was far too intelligent for that, never relying on her looks when her words and wit would do.”

“Yes, well…” Thea grumbled.

“You give him too little credit, Thea,” Cataline shook her head. “As you do yourself. You are not the same woman you were a decade ago. You are not even the same woman you were a year ago.”

Thea shrugged, sitting in front of her vanity and staring at her reflection. There were precious few mirrors still intact in the palace; most had been shattered in her initial rage after the curse had descended. “Look,” she sighed, “I am sorry. I want nothing more than to free the rest of you from the consequences of my own bad decisions, but what can I do?”

“For one thing,” Cataline replied, hopping up onto the vanity and twitching her long ginger tail, “You could try courting him properly. Both of you keep dancing around the issue, but neither one of you has made your feelings or your intentions clear. So start there. And you had damn well hurry up, because we are rapidly running out of time.”

Thea stared at her cousin’s normally serene violet eyes, now sharp with rebuke. Cataline had always had a will of iron, when the occasion called for it, and apparently she had decided this did. Thea rolled her eyes, then growled, “Oh fine. Go. Tell him to meet me outside the west tower this evening.”

Cataline and Nathaniel exchanged a surprised look that quickly settled into something far too pleased. Nevertheless, Cataline leapt gracefully from the table and padded out the door. Nathaniel gave a small croak of laughter.

“Alright, Vivienne, I take it you heard all that?”

“Of course, darling,” the enchanted wardrobe replied. “I have just the thing. Thea, come here, my dear. I need to make some quick alterations to make sure it fits properly.”

 

* * *

 

 

That evening, Thea once again found herself pacing, this time at the bottom of the stairs leading to the west tower. She had not been up there in sometime, but Dorian had assured her that it had been kept neat and clean and exactly as she had left it. The spell had, against all odds, held, even against the curse. She fidgeted with the beautiful silver fastenings on the midnight blue blouse Vivienne had put her in, the black velvet trousers fitted just right even on her deformed legs. Cataline had begged her to leave her hair down rather than in the tight, severe braids she had favored ever since she had transformed, but Thea had not been able to bring herself to do it. Her hair had always been a bit of a vanity for her, and seeing what she had once considered so beautiful framing a face that was so twisted had been too painful.

“You look beautiful, Theadosia.”

She spun around at the sound of his voice, her hands instinctually clasping at her waist so that she did not wring them incessantly. “Vivienne did the best she could with what she had to work with,” she conceded with a small, rueful smile. “It has been a very, _very_ long time since I have made much of an effort.”

Loghain stepped closer, bending down and brushing a kiss against her hand. “I fear I am not worth such consideration on your part,” he informed her, “Though I am certainly flattered by it.”

Despite herself, Thea felt her smile brightening. She shook her head with a playful roll of her eyes, then took a key from her pocket. “I want to show you something,” she told him. “You have seen my library, which is my favorite room _inside_ the castle, however, there is another place I called my own. A place that once brought me joy, and where I would spend hours at a time.”

She unlocked the door, then began ascending the stairs, Loghain following behind her. They climbed the spiraling staircase, higher and higher, until finally they reached a second door. Thea once again produced the key and, taking a deep breath, pushed it open, allowing Loghain to precede her through the doorway. When he saw what it revealed, she heard a quiet exhalation of awe. She closed the door behind them, taking a place at his side.

It was truly a wonder. Aside from a small piece of wall where the door was, the rest of the tower was open to the air and the night sky, covered instead by a dome of pure magic. It had been a gift from Vivienne, Dorian, and the other mages on her nineteenth birthday; a little piece of happiness for the lonely young woman Thea had once been. Large pillows and blankets and cushions occupied the floor, and someone had left a bottle of wine and two glasses on a small table. Thea strongly suspected she knew who was responsible, but said nothing.

“This is incredible,” Loghain murmured beside her, his eyes staring into the deep expanse of stars and silky blue that stretched across the sky.

“I have always loved the stars,” Thea replied, her own voice soft with the wonder and quiet contentment she always felt up here. She stepped forward and settled onto one of the oversized cushions and tried not to let her heart race out her chest when Loghain joined her, laying back and gazing up at the stars. To her immense surprise, he reached out an arm to her and, before her common sense could persuade her better, she lay down beside him, allowing him to wrap his arm around her as she nestled her head against his chest.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” His hand ran gently up and down her shoulder, and Thea gave a small sigh of contentment.

“It is.”

They lay there quietly, curled up together in the company of only the stars. He eventually sat up long enough to pour them a glass of wine, but as soon as he had his arm was back around her, holding her close, occasionally whispering a few hushed words when a shooting star sailed past, or asking her about this constellation or that. Finally, Thea found the courage to ask the question she knew she had to; the one that would make all the difference.

“Loghain? Are you… are you happy, here?”

He was silent for a moment, then nodded slowly. “For the most part, yes. I am happy here, Theadosia.”

She felt her heart sink. “‘For the most part’?” She repeated back.

Loghain sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I miss my daughter. I worry for her. She is strong, and intelligent, and a brilliant queen. But there are asps at her court, and so I worry. I wish I knew if she was alright.”

Thea bit her lower lip, worrying at it until she nearly drew blood. She knew what she had to do. With a small exhale of resignation, she stood up. “Come with me,” she instructed.

Loghain’s brow furrowed a bit, but he did as she asked, following her back down the stairs and towards her bedroom. When they entered, she approached the vanity and carefully picked up a small, golden hand mirror. “This,” she explained, “Was a gift from Morrigan. A clever bit of magic, really, and one she relied on often in the Wilds. You simply look into it, speak the name of the person you wish to see and, assuming they are in a decent state, you will see them as they currently are.”

He took the mirror from her hands, almost as if he were afraid to do so. Looking into its smooth reflection, Loghain softly but firmly spoke the name _Anora_. Thea held back, not wanting to intrude. Suddenly, Loghain’s face contorted into an expression of sheer rage, and he thrust the mirror back towards Thea.

“They’ve imprisoned her!” He growled. “Eamon and his ilk! She’s being held in her rooms at the palace, locked up like a common criminal! They intend to seize the damn throne.”

Thea felt a swell of temper rising in her own heart. She set the mirror down carefully, only just managing before a furious scream tore from her own throat and her claws came down to slash across the wall, leaving an ugly scar in their wake. Loghain had collapsed on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. Thea looked at him, and she could practically feel his grief and anger and fear.

And she felt her own heart break.

“Loghain,” she began, then threw her hands up helplessly. She walked to a tall, deceptively understated cabinet against the back wall. From it, she drew the sword she had taken from him the day he had first come to be her prisoner. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing away the tears that were already forming there, then turned and walked back towards him, her heart shattering a little more with every step. When she held out the blade on flat, trembling palms, he looked up at her with something akin to shock in his eyes.

“Go, Loghain. You have to save her. For her own sake, and for the sake of Ferelden. You have to go. I will do what has to be done to keep the wolves at bay.”

“Theadosia,” he whispered as he stood, accepting the blade, but reaching out and cupping her cheek gently in his hand. “Thank you.”

She nodded, unable to trust her words any longer. She followed him out of the room and down to the main hall, ignoring the sudden rush of whispers and questions that followed them. They walked silently through the night, neither saying a word as he saddled Alexander and led him to the gates. Once there, Thea silently pushed them open before once again drawing her blade and neatly slicing the flesh of her arm, tossing the blood in a wide arc. “It will not hold long,” she whispered.

Loghain nodded in understanding, but reached out and took her hand anyways. “Theadosia,” he took her chin in his other hand and tilted it up so that she was facing him. “I will come back to you. I promise.”

She shook her head. “Loghain, I am granting you your freedom,” she spoke, the words unsteady on her tongue.

“And I do not want any freedom that does not have you in it,” he replied stubbornly. “I will go rescue Anora, and we will come back here and figure out what to do next.”

Thea nodded, but her entire body had gone numb. Even the warmth of her own blood against her skin did not reach her. She watched in mute acceptance as Loghain swung up into the saddle, turned and met her eyes one last time, and then urged Alexander into a gallop, disappearing into the night.

She trudged back up into the castle, making it no farther than the entry way inside the front doors before she collapsed, unable or perhaps unwilling to go any farther. She accepted the bandages Cataline gently nudged towards her, binding her wound before crawling into the sitting room and dragging herself up into her favorite chair. Cataline hopped up onto her lap, and Nathaniel swooped in and settled on the arm, gently nuzzling her arm with his head.

“I’m so sorry,” Thea whispered. “I had to… I could not ask him to stay, not when his only daughter was in danger.”

“I know, Thea,” Cataline soothed her, carefully kneading her leg with her paws. “Because you love him.”

Thea did not answer. Instead, for the first time in years, she began to silently weep. 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Loghain had never ridden so hard in his life and Alexander, seeming to inherently understand the urgency of the situation, flew like the wind, the ground disappearing beneath the thunder of his hooves faster than his rider could process it. The moons had risen high in the sky by the time they reached the outskirts of Denerim and Loghain dismounted, leaving Alexander untethered by a small copse of trees outside the gates. The horse would not wander; Loghain knew that much. Taking a step forward, he frowned, his eyes scanning the city walls. Something was not right. It was too quiet, too calm.

His guard raised even higher, he carefully began making his way around the exterior of the city wall. When he reached a certain spot, he took a small stone from his pocket and, pressing it against another equally unassuming stone in the wall itself, revealed a hidden door. It had been a frivolous precaution, he had argued at the time, but dead useful now. He knew that Anora would doubtless tease him mercilessly about it should they all make it out of this alive. Moving silently through the night, drawing on skills he had not needed in years, he made his way through a back passage and into the palace proper. He got lost a few times, unfamiliar with all the hidden tunnels and back ways, but eventually he found himself at an exit point near Anora’s rooms.

And he was not the only one there.

“Princess Felicita?”

The young woman jumped from where she had been trying, apparently unsuccessfully, to pick the lock. She recovered quickly enough, her hand neatly going behind her back in attempt to hide the tools she had been using while the other went to the small dagger at her belt. She seemed to relax a bit when she saw it was him, but her golden brown eyes were still wary. “Teyrn Mac Tir,” she finally spoke, words barely above a whisper even though the hall was empty. “What are you doing here?”

“Just ‘Loghain,’” he reminded her with a small sigh. “And I could ask you the same question,” he pointed out, keeping his voice low.

“I am not the one who is supposedly dead.”

Loghain briefly pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is that what Eamon has been telling you all?” He shook his head in irritation. “There is no time to explain everything that is wrong with that sentence.” Loghain glanced at the broken lock picks Felicita had not been able to gather up off the floor. “Do you have any lock picking experience whatsoever?”  
  
She looked at him, her expression flat. “It is not exactly a skill they teach in Antivan finishing schools. I suspect we both want the same thing, which is access to Queen Anora's rooms. Are you going to help, or not?”

“Are you going to tell me _why_ you are so intent on getting in to my daughter’s rooms?”

Felicita crossed her arms, stubbornness writ clearly across her face. “Anora is not the only prisoner this ‘Arl Eamon’ has taken, Teyrn Mac Tir.”

Loghain did not bother trying to correct her again. Instead, he just gave a huff of exasperation before he knelt before the door, his hands shaking slightly as he carefully picked the lock. As he heard the final tumbler fall into place he burst into the room, Felicita following at his heels. Loghain was perhaps irrationally pleased that Anora greeted them with a blade in her hand and a glare of defiance on her delicate features. Her expression turned to one of shock as she realized it was him, and she rushed into his arms, embracing him tightly. “Father,” she exclaimed, “What in the void are you doing here?”

“Rescuing you, now come on.” Loghain took his daughter by the hand and began to pull her towards the door.

“Not without Alistair,” she replied, tossing her head back towards a corner of the room that had utterly escaped Loghain’s notice in his frantic desire to get his daughter out and get them both back to Theadosia. “He did not ask for any of this, and if they come back and find me gone but him still here they will kill him.”

The younger man gave a small wave with a slightly sheepish grin from around the embrace of Felicita. “Fabs, I’m fine, I promise. Hello again, Loghain.”

“Oh, _fine_ ,” Loghain grumbled. “But can we just leave? Now?”

The four of them hurried from the room and back into the labyrinth of hidden passageways. “Father, we have a problem,” Anora informed him, worry lacing her words. “Eamon has gone in search of Thea’s castle. He intends to kill her, ridding the world of the dreaded ‘beast’ of the forest and making himself a hero, thus legitimizing his seizure of the throne.”

“ _What?”_

“He has taken a large contingent of soldiers with him,” Alistair chimed him, his tone grim. “That is why there are so few on guard at the moment. For the past few months, he has been quietly replacing the Denerim guard with Redcliffe soldiers loyal to him, rather than to the country or the crown. He would never have been able to depose Anora if he had been reliant on her own people. I’m honestly a bit disgusted so many Redcliffe soldiers have bought into his madness.”

“How exactly did you even end up imprisoned?” Loghain inquired, unable to keep the suspicion from his question.

Alistair sighed. “Well, when I was not too keen to steal Anora’s throne out from under her, Eamon decided to simply take it for himself, reasoning that it would be better to have Cailan’s uncle on the throne rather than his widow. Maybe because he assumes ruling a kingdom requires a dick, I don’t know.”

Loghain gave a brief snort of laughter in spite of himself. “Well he would certainly fit that requirement in some sense, I suppose,” he observed drily. “But you still have not answered my question.”

“I informed my uncle that I was not going to simply sit by and allow him to commit treason,” Alistair shrugged. “Apparently, this was exactly the wrong thing to say, because he decided that if I wasn’t with him I was thoroughly against him, so he tossed me in with Anora and informed _me_ I could rot in there for all he cared. So really, basically what he did when he dumped me at that monastery, but with more honesty. A nice change of pace except for, I don’t know, the whole imprisonment part.”

“It was an absolute outrage,” Felicita spoke up, her cultivated voice trembling with carefully suppressed rage. “To see Arl Guerrin treat his own sovereign queen in such a manner-”

“We have to hurry,” Anora reminded them, quickening her steps. “That castle is hidden, but it is not invisible. If Eamon gets there before we do, Thea and everyone else is in grave danger. We need to get to the stables.”

“Right,” Loghain agreed, “Horses.”

“And weapons,” his daughter added. When he glanced at her, she gave him a small smile. “Erlina was able to get out when we heard whispers about Eamon’s plot. We had a plan: she would hide a couple of blades in the stables, because that was likely the first place I would try to reach. Felicita?” She turned back to the Antivan woman, taking her hands in her own. “I need you to stay here and keep your eyes and ears open. If things take a turn for the worse, get yourself out and ride to Highever. Tell Teyrn Cousland what happened. He will protect you.”

“Of course, your majesty,” Felicita nodded her head delicately, before turning to Alistair. “And you don’t do anything foolish, alright?” She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I’ll do my best,” Alistair promised, then watched as she returned in the direction of the castle before waving Loghain and Anora towards the stables.

When they arrived, Alistair deftly knocked out the lone guard with a brisk blow to the back of his head. Anora and Alistair quickly saddled their mounts and retrieved the hidden arms, then followed Loghain back to where Alexander was patiently waiting. They mounted up, then rode swiftly into the night.

 

* * *

 

 

They rode hard, but by the time the castle came into view, it was no longer even remotely concealed by magic. In fact, the entire night sky was alight with torches, and the sounds of battle rang out in the stillness of the night. “Oh no,” Anora whispered, her eyes reflecting the despair Loghain felt in his own heart. “We’re too late.”

“We are _not_ too late,” he snapped. “We have to get to the castle.”

The three of them continued onward. The demonic wolves were at their post outside the gate, but paid them no mind, already feasting on fallen soldiers that had not been quick enough to escape their ravenous jaws. Alistair sounded as though he were about to be sick, but Loghain simply said a silent prayer for the fallen men, who had foolishly followed bad orders and paid the ultimate price. At his side, he could hear Anora quietly doing the same. As they entered the courtyard, they found more bodies, but they were all Redcliffe soldiers. If there were any of the castle’s occupants, they were not visible in the inconstant flickering of torchlight. They dismounted at the stable, leaving the horses with Theadosia’s beloved Aurora, who fortunately seemed no worse the wear.

They ran the rest of the way up the curving staircase to the front doors, shoving them open with little grace and revealing a scene of utter chaos. Despite his previous concern, the castle’s enchanted inhabitants seemed to be holding their own against Eamon’s men. Cataline was darting and weaving between their legs, tripping them up before raking vicious claws down their faces, snarling and hissing at any who had the misfortune to fall beneath her. Nathaniel was soaring above the melee, pouring flaming liquor from a shapely decanter that, if Loghain remembered correctly, had once been a Rivaini pirate queen by the name of Isabela. Every so often, a soldier would let out a shrill shriek and begin frantically patting down their armor, and Loghain strongly suspected Morrigan was weaving her own special brand of arachnid terror.

The three of them stared in open bewilderment for a moment, until Cataline caught sight of them and shouted in Loghain’s direction. “She is in the west wing, but Eamon was close behind her! Go!”

Loghain glanced back towards Anora and Alistair, both of whom had already drawn their weapons. Anora tossed her head with a wild laugh, exhilaration brightening her eyes for the first time in years. “You heard her, father. Go rescue the woman you love.” She turned towards her friend. “Shall we enlighten Eamon’s men as to how we feel about their unique brand of hospitality?”

Alistair grinned. “Yes, your majesty, I believe we shall.” And with that, both of them joined the fray, a frightful war cry tearing forth from their lungs, but Loghain had no time to enjoy the pride he felt in his daughter. Instead, he bolted in the direction of the west wing, and Theadosia’s room.

Sure enough, she was there, a pair of wicked looking daggers in her claws as she faced down Eamon Guerrin. Eamon was circling closer, sword and shield in hand, and a look of manic zealotry on his face. Theadosia was still standing, but she had been wounded, and looked as though she had largely given up the will to live.

“Your death will not be in vain,” Eamon informed her. “It will serve to secure my own control over Ferelden. It needs a strong ruler.”

“It _has_ a strong ruler,” Loghain snarled, and Eamon spun around to face him. “Its _queen_.”

“Loghain?”

He met Theadosia’s eyes, and his heart leapt. A smile broke over her features as he stepped closer to her, but the moment of happiness cost her dearly. In the single space of that smile, Eamon spun around on his feet and, taking advantage of Theadosia’s distraction, ran his blade deep into her belly.

“ _NO.”_

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Loghain watched the color drain from Theadosia’s already ivory skin even as darkness blossomed against the midnight hue of her blouse, and she fell to the floor. Eamon drew his sword from her body, and prepared to face Loghain, but he moved a fraction too slowly. In his rage, Loghain had rushed blindly towards the other man, bowling into him with enough force to knock Eamon backwards several steps. Before the arl could recover his footing, Loghain had thrust his own sword through his heart, driving it so deep that he was face to face with Eamon as the lifeblood drained from him.

“Ferelden will survive,” he hissed, twisting the sword deeper, “Without you.” With that, he withdrew his blade and kicked Eamon square in the gut, sending his body tumbling over the edge of the balcony to land with a sickening crunch on the ground below. Loghain suddenly felt the strength leave his body, and he dropped his sword clattering to the ground as he knelt beside Theadosia. Even in the dim light of the moons and stars, he could see she was dying. As she struggled to speak, Loghain watched her eyes slowly change from the golden cat’s eyes to the most beautiful shade of blue he had ever seen; like that of a sea during the storm.

“Theadosia, hold on,” he begged her, knowing already that she could not. “Please. We’ll get help, somehow, we’ll-”

“Loghain, hush,” she murmured, her breathing growing more ragged. “It’s alright. You… you came back…”

“Theadosia, of course I came back.” Loghain lifted her head carefully into his arms, cradling it in his lap. “I would have fought through the void itself to come back to you. Always.”

There were tears running down her face now, yet the ones she reached up to wipe away with trembling hands were his own. “Loghain,” she whispered, “I love you.” And with that, her eyelids slowly shut, and her hand fell away.

“Theadosia, please,” Loghain spoke, his own voice breaking on the words. “Please come back to me.” He bent down, pressing his forehead against hers.

“I love you, Theadosia.”

He held her tight against his chest, silent tears running down his cheeks. He was vaguely aware of Cataline and Nathaniel entering the room, followed by Anora and Alistair. Anora gave a small cry, falling to her knees. Still, Loghain held onto Theadosia, refusing to stand, or to answer the unasked questions in the eyes of the others.

No one paid any attention to the enchanted rose in its glass case, nor did they notice as each fallen petal bloomed back to life and drifted from the pedestal’s surface to reattach themselves to the verdant stem.

 

 

 

 


	9. Chapter Nine

No one spoke. The silence in Theadosia’s bedroom was so profound it seemed suffocating, and in that moment, Loghain would have welcomed even that slow death. _Too late… I was just too late…_

Then without warning, there was a burst of sudden light. It seemed to be emanating from Theadosia’s chest, making her glow like a star fallen to earth. Loghain stared wordlessly as her body slowly rose from the floor, disentangling from his embrace and glowing ever brighter until it hurt to look upon her. In the edges of his vision, Loghain could see her legs morphing and shifting back into those of a human, and the long wicked claws shrinking back into slender, delicate fingers. Long, auburn waves sprung free from the braids she had long kept her hair in and tumbled down her back. Then, as quickly as it had emerged, the light faded. Theadosia drifted slowly back to the floor, her now fully human body dressed in a simple cotton shift.

Loghain moved closer to her, almost afraid to hope. Her eyes were still closed, but she was human, and she was whole: there was no trace of the fatal wound Eamon had delivered. As he reached out a careful hand to brush against her cheek, Theadosia’s eyelids fluttered open, and her eyes met his. She stared at him for a moment, then reached a tentative hand up to feel her face, her ears, her nose… she held out her hand and gazed at it in open wonder, seeing for the first time in a decade beautiful, delicate hands rather than claws.

“Theadosia.”

She returned her attention to him, a brilliant, beautiful smile blooming brightly on her face. Before he could speak another word, she had thrown her arms around his neck, and her lips crashed into his, kissing him fiercely. And he was overjoyed to simply kiss her back.

“Loghain,” she whispered breathlessly when they finally parted, “I love you.” Her true voice was even more beautiful than he had imagined it would be.

“I love you, Theadosia.” He leaned down and kissed her again. _I will never grow tired of kissing her_.

“It’s about time,” a quiet, amused voice came from the doorway. Theadosia and Loghain turned, and saw the slender, willowy figure of a ginger haired woman with gentle violet eyes standing secure in the arms of a tall, raven-haired man with a piercing silver gaze.

“Cataline… Nathaniel…” Theadosia spoke their names with quiet joy, tears once again streaming down her face. Loghain helped her stand, then took a step back as she was embraced by her cousin and her best friend.

Nathaniel gave Loghain a small smile and a slight nod, but Cataline turned to embrace him as well. “You two are very nearly impossible,” she informed him. “Honestly.”

Loghain chuckled quietly, a sense of warmth sinking into his entire body as Theadosia returned to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his chest. “You were right, Anora,” she admitted, glancing at her friend.

“Of course I was,” Anora replied primly, but there was a bright smile on her face as well. “Granted, it helped that you were already half in love with him, but I knew it would be a good match.’

“Anora!” Theadosia protested, but Loghain just laughed.

“You never mentioned that part, Sweetheart,” he pointed out, gently tilting her chin to press another kiss against her lips.”

“Yes, well,” Theadosia muttered, but he could tell she wasn’t truly angry. She turned her attention towards Alistair, her expression slightly curious before she gave a small nod of understanding. “Ah, right. The useless one.”

“Hey,” Alistair protested, pointing at Loghain. “I sent _him_ didn’t I?”

“Fair enough,” Theadosia agreed, laughing brightly, the sound ringing in the air. “I suppose it was for the best I didn’t eat you.” She threw a grin in Alistair’s direction, and he just rolled his eyes.

The castle seemed to be coming alive. The last of the invaders were fleeing, and Anora pointed out that she ought to return to the capital to rally her people and secure her throne. “I believe we have accomplished what we came here to do,” she said, stepping forward and placing her hands over Theadosia’s and Loghain’s. “And I expect an invitation to the wedding, so no running off and eloping.”

Theadosia made a noise as though she were about to protest, but Loghain just wrapped his free arm around his daughter and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Deal. Now, go. Set the city back in line. We’ll manage here.”

As Alistair and Anora departed and Cataline and Nathaniel went to account for the castle’s residents, Loghain turned to Theadosia. “I suppose I should at least ask you.”

“Ask me what, my Love?”

He felt another bloom of warmth in his heart at her words. “Well… if you want to marry me.”

Theadosia arched up onto her toes, slipping her arms back around his neck and sinking her body against his as she kissed him deeply. “Only you,” she whispered against his cheek. “I am yours, Loghain. Always.”

He gave a small sigh of relief, holding her close against his chest.

“As I am yours. Always.”

 

* * *

 

 

She wondered if she would ever grow tired of the sunrise.

Thea stood on the balcony of her bedroom- _no,_ our _bedroom-_ with a too-big robe clinging more or less, mostly less, to her body, and stared out as the first rays of summer sunshine unfolded over the verdant greens and riotous blooms of flowers that marked the revitalized castle grounds. Had there always been so much color in the world? So much light? She had spent so long with nothing but muted shades of ice and snow and grey light.

Ever since the curse had been lifted and seasons had returned to her tiny corner of Thedas, she had woken with the sun every morning, so grateful was she for the simple joys of its warmth and light. Thea would always be a daughter of starlight, but having lived a decade deprived of the sun, she had found a renewed appreciation of it. Someday, she would indulge in the pleasure of sleeping in late, tangled in the blankets and the arms of her lover, but for now, this was what she needed.

“You look absolutely radiant standing there in the sunlight, you realize that?”

Thea turned and smiled at Loghain, letting the robe slip a little further down her arms. “Didn’t you say something along similar lines last night? Something about me looking absolutely stunning whilst bathed in starlight?”

He laughed quietly. “I do not think I was that poetic, but yes, the sentiment was the same.” He held out a hand, and she came and settled back on the bed, sitting beside him and leaning into his touch as he wrapped his arm around her waist and she let the robe fall away entirely. “Of course, you look beautiful regardless of what light you are in,” he continued, brushing his lips against her fingers.

Thea lay back down beside him, nestling close to him and letting herself sink into the warmth of his skin against hers, her lips curving up at the corners even as she leaned up to kiss his. It was so utterly wonderful to kiss Loghain, and to be kissed by him; touched by him. Every time they tumbled into bed together, or woke up safe in each other’s arms, or even just the times Thea realized that he loved her, just the way she was… there was joy in her life again.

All those who had been trapped by the curse had been restored to their former selves; every last one of them. Many had returned to overjoyed friends or family, though some had decided to go out and explore the world, enjoying their freedom for the first time in a decade, though every last one of them had promised to return for her wedding, and to visit often after that. New staff had been hired, though only what was essential. Thea still valued her privacy and her space, as did Loghain, who was grateful to finally have a home away from court. Only Cataline and Nathaniel remained in the castle, taking up residence in the east wing, for which Thea was grateful.

She breathed a soft sigh of contentment, her breath fanning out over Loghain’s chest, and he held her just a little closer. His fingers idly ran through the long auburn waves of her hair, which she had taken to wearing down rather than in the braids she had relied on in her beastly form. He had told her how much he loved it, and she loved that he did. “I am amazed you are still able to find me beautiful first thing in the morning when I have not yet had time to comb out my hair.”

Loghain pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Theadosia, I thought you were beautiful even when you had a tail. I do not think a few tangles are going to so easily change my opinion.”

“Hey,” Thea protested, rolling over so that she was draped across his chest, her head resting on her crossed arms. “I _liked_ the tail, for your information. It was excellent for balance.” It was only a slight exaggeration. It had taken Thea some time to adjust to walking on two human legs again rather than on the bent legs of a cat, and without the counterweight of the tail.

“You know what I meant,” Loghain laughed. “You are stunningly beautiful, Theadosia, but that is not why I fell in love with you. I fell in love with your compassion, your intelligence, your wit…”

She silenced his list with her lips on his. When she leaned back, she smiled at him, and he returned the gesture, gently stroking her hair. “I love you,” she murmured.

“I love you, Theadosia,” he replied. “So what do you think? Should we go get married?”

She giggled as she rolled off of him and out of bed, reaching for her brush.

“Yes, my love. Let’s.”

 

* * *

 

 

The scent of flowers hung heavy in the air in the ballroom, and blossoms brightened every table and column, graceful testaments to summer and sunshine. Thea’s own bouquet had been composed by Merrill herself, and consisted of fierce bright sunflowers, accented with sprigs of lavender and tendrils of greenery and tiny white wildflowers, the latter of which had also been woven into her hair by Nathaniel. The dress, ethereal layers of silver and midnight blue and embroidered with thousands of glittering stars, had been a gift from Vivienne, who had employed her own army of seamstresses to create a new wardrobe for the transformed Lady Mac Tir.

Margot had come all the way from Ostwick for the occasion, overjoyed to learn of her younger sister’s survival, and of her marriage to Loghain. She brought with her not only the deeds and papers for Thea’s own holdings and investments, which she had kept safe in the intervening years in her own firm belief that her younger sister had survived, but also a wedding gift in the form of a partnership in the new trading company Margot was founding. She offered partial control to Cataline as well, and Seawolf & Steed was formed.

Thea could not keep herself from smiling. She had never imagined herself a married woman, and yet here she was, and deliriously happy at that. As Loghain spun her around the ballroom she nearly felt as though she were floating, and perhaps that was as it was supposed to be. They had remained at each other’s side all day, speaking their vows in front of the revered mother and their family and friends, before joining in the first celebration Thea had been privy to since the last disastrous party on her twentieth birthday.

Anora was there, of course, a quiet smile on her face as she surveyed the guests. Alistair Theirin was as well, with his newly betrothed on his arm, the beautiful and graceful Princess Felicita. Thea had made a point of greeting them personally, offering the younger man thanks for the efforts he had made in defending her home and her friends. Alistair had actually blushed at that, making Felicita giggle. As Thea and Loghain moved on to speak with the author Varric Tethras, she heard Felicita speak to Alistair in her charming Antivan accent.

“That is the woman you were so afraid was going to eat you whole? She does not look so terrifying.”

“You didn’t see her with the fangs,” Alistair replied flatly, but he grinned when Thea turned and threw a wink back in his direction, and Felicita just gave another laugh as she leaned up and brushed a kiss to his cheek.  

“You probably should have at least gnawed on an arm,” Loghain observed under his breath. “It would have been good for him.”

Thea laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning up against his chest to press a kiss to his lips. “Probably,” she agreed, “But it would have made a dreadful mess in my front hall, and have you ever tried to get blood out of silk? Vivienne would have never let me live it down.”

Loghain just shook his head with a small smile.

“I love you, Theadosia.”

 

* * *

 

 

They could go anywhere in the world they wanted, now. Theadosia had her freedom and, in many ways, so did he. Loghain had been honest when he told Theadosia he was happy there, with her, and he was perfectly content to spend the rest of his life at his wife’s side in the castle in the woods, far from politicians and courtiers and those who had been eager to see him dead or exiled. It had been difficult, of course, to tell Anora he would not be returning to Denerim. Loghain had expected at least a token protest, but his daughter had simply smiled and told him she had never expected otherwise, though she _would_ expect him and Theadosia to visit from time to time.

He spent his days working with Theadosia, Cataline, and Nathaniel, building the Seawolf and Steed trading company and otherwise running the estate. And when there was not work to be done, he and Theadosia would take long rides out past the borders of the forest to the sea, spending the day wading in the waves or building castles in the sand. There were cool autumn days spent reading together in the library, where she was also once again able to sing and play at the piano, or simply sit and listen as he played like she had before, a dreamy look in her storm blue eyes. Maker, but he loved her eyes.

“Look,” Theadosia whispered, pointing high above their heads. They were in the enchanted tower, lying together on a pile of pillows and tangled in each other’s arms. “I think the meteor shower is beginning.”

Another star arced through the sky, leaving a silver ghost of a trail in its wake. “It’s beautiful,” Loghain agreed, holding her a little closer and pressing a kiss to her head. “ _This_ is beautiful.”

She gave a small hum of contentment, nuzzling her head against his shoulder. “It really is.”

They could go anywhere in the world they wanted. And for now?

Loghain wanted to be exactly where he was.

 

 


End file.
